


Strange Encounter

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Fluff and Angst, GTA AU, GTAV!AU, Gavin is a cocky magical asshole, Healing, Human!Ray, Immortality, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic!Gavin, Magic!Geoff, Magic!Jack, Magic!Ryan, Magic-Users, Mavin, Near Death Experiences, Organized Crime, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Raychael brOTP, Raywood, Ryan is The Vagabond, Ryan is fucking clueless, Supernatural Elements, Violence, fem!Jack, human!michael, mentions of past drug addiction, not like immortal fahc though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-01 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10195991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: Ray always knew of The Vagabond- but like most other people in the city, he'd never seen more than a flash of a skull mask, heard the roar of a supercar down the street, listened to the whispered rumours about a group of criminals that were sub-human, with magic glowing from their fingertips and pouring from their eye-sockets.Ray never paid much attention to rumours. As far as he was concerned- he and Michael were a pretty efficient enough team on their own, powers or otherwise. So when the ever elusive Geoff Ramsey takes an interest in them, he's skeptical. it's just hard to keep someone as mysterious as The Vagabond at arms length when he's so fucking addictive.//“I have a reasonably approximate knowledge about most of the people in this city.” The Vagabond shrugged as they walked towards the doors. “However, I pride myself on having extensive knowledge of the people Geoff take interest in, Ray Narvaez Jr.”





	1. Skull Masks and Butterfly Knives

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new-take on a GTA fic. It's sort of Fake AH Crew with a little bit of Immortal Fake!AH crew and a bunch of supernatural elements. Michael and Ray are about as human and as confused as they come. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE // SKULL MASKS AND BUTTERFLY KNIVES

 

 

 

Michael Jones was a special kind of juxtaposition in Ray’s life.

 

With pale skin, curly brown hair and a complexion littered with tiny beautiful freckles, from the outside Michael didn’t appear much. He wasn’t as little as Ray, but he was certainly small compared to most of the people in their business. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he wasn’t flabby either, with soft spots around his stomach and his freckled arms, sunspots covered with a few over-coloured video-game themed tattoos. Michael had a baby face, a small button nose and the dimpled smile of a boy who spent far too much time being cooed at by his mother’s friends growing up. For a semi-professional criminal in the heart of Los Santos, Michael didn’t make much sense at all.

He didn’t even make sense to Ray, and they’d been friends for years. Another contrast with Michael’s soft appearance was the choleric disposition Ray had learned to both love and tolerate over the years. Michael was always angry about everything, especially the things he enjoyed, like video games and robbing stores and Ray’s friendship. That’s why Michael always did the leg work in most of their crimes. It was a better outlet for his anger than countless crushed game controllers, and Ray was more than happy to sit opposite the store on a roof with his rifle or even just out front in the car with a handgun, on the look-out just in case the police got wise on them.

It didn’t happen often, as the LSPD could be likened to a group of sheep with no dog to guide them, and with Ray’s consistent laziness and Michael’s tendency to be a little over the top in his scare tactics, it certainly worked in their favour. Ray was slouched back against the passenger seat of Michael’s four door Honda Civic with his feet up on the dusty dashboard. If he squinted, he could just about make out Michael inside the mini-mart, waving his gun at the clerk and shouting with an angry, red face. It made him smile, to see his best friend enjoying himself so much.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?”

Ray barely had time to turn his head and register much information about the six-foot-one bald guy with the ugly scar on his left cheek and cigarette burns on his arms before the door was thrown open and he was being dragged out of the car.

“See if this is something to smile about.”

He was about to call out for Michael, but the lug (or scar-face, as Ray was referring to him as in his head already) was a little too quick on the uptake, and whipped him round the face with the butt of his pistol before Ray had the chance to utter a single syllable.

 _Fucking great_. Ray thought to himself. _And I was going to finish Uncharted tonight._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Torture was something Ray had never formed much of an opinion on. He certainly wasn’t a fan, but more in the way that nobody was a fan of injections or dental work. He didn’t really have much _dislike_ for it, but understood how being on the receiving end could potentially be distressing for the right person.

Ray hadn’t been distressed about much for a long time, so when the fourth or fifth punch smashed into his jaw, he barely let out a faint groan. He’d been tied to the chair for around twenty-five minutes, whilst scar-face paced and monologue as his twin goons took turns using him as a punching bag.

“Why won’t you talk?” One demanded in a surprisingly high pitched voice. Ray quirked his lip into a faint smile. “I guess I don’t have anything to say.” He shrugged.

“Bet you think you’re real fucking funny-” the one who was taller started, waving his knife about before the one with the high pitched voice caught him. “Relax, Rodger.” He said quietly. “We can’t kill him until he talks.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ray laughed. “You’re not good with this whole… interrogation thing, are you?”

The two looked at each other, both equal shades of embarrassment and annoyance. Then, the one with the high pitched voice reached forwards suddenly with the knife, embedding it directly into Ray’s upper arm.

Once he had finished screaming, they smiled.

“Bet you’ll talk now you little fucking shit.” The one who was taller smirked, leaning in on his face. Ray glared at him with a ferocity that rivalled Michael’s in the middle of _The Impossible Game_ , and spat a bloodied mouthful of phlegm across his cheek. The goon’s eyes closed, his face a picture of silent burning rage as he reached up with the sleeve of his shirt and wiped his face, straightening his back and stepping backwards.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you.” He said, matter-of-factly, and Ray’s heart sunk to his stomach.

“Hold him.” Scar-face interrupted the stare off, and the goons shuffled back towards him, one grabbing him by the hair to tilt his head up and the other holding his shoulders down so he couldn’t wriggle out of their grip. Scar-face pulled his own tool, a long glistening butterfly knife, and approached Ray with it slowly. His breath hitched, almost as if he was excited when he dragged the cool metal across Ray’s tanned flesh, pressing hard enough to redden the skin but not enough to make a cut across the swell of this throat.

“Please.” Ray pleaded quietly. “What do you want?”

“My brother.” Scar-face said, the knife continuing its dance across Ray’s skin. “You killed him, three months ago.”

Ray attempted to shake his head, but the one with the high pitched voice yanked his hair tighter, keeping his head completely still. Ray’s eyes widened behind his glasses as scar-face pressed harder with the knife, nicking his Adam’s apple lightly. He felt the drop of blood trickle down his neck, dropping at his collarbone.

“He was my brother, and you fucking sniped him from the top of some building in broad daylight. He was out buying a birthday present for his son and you took him out outside the fucking toy-store.” Scar-face growled. Ray stiffened, he remembered now. The guy was some mid-level gangster, and he’d been payed personally by the bigger guys to get him out of the picture. Ray didn’t know much of the story, but it was the usual tale of somebody knowing too much and putting the whole organisation at risk.

“It was nothing personal dude, I swear.” Ray’s chest heaved, eyes darting between scar-face and the knife. “Look, I just get the orders. I get jobs sent through from people high up and I do what I’m told. I’m just a worthless fucking sniper-for-higher, dime a dozen here. It was nothing personal, I-I didn’t know about the kid or-”

“Shut _up_!” Scar-face shouted suddenly, making even his own goons jump. “Enough of this damn _talking_. Who paid you?”

“For that job… uh-” Ray glanced up at the ceiling, trying to recall where exactly his payment had come from that time around. He ran so many different jobs in a week, it was hard to make matches between employers and targets.

“Quickly!”

“Sorry!” Ray gritted his teeth as he felt the blade push against his throat again. “Monroe… I-I think it was James Monroe.”

“You _think-_ ”

“I know, alright!” he admitted. “It was Monroe. Nothing to do with me- it’s your business dude. Now… please? Can I go- cause my friend, he’ll be worried about me and-”

“Quiet.” Scar-face gritted his teeth. He stepped backwards, tucking the knife into his back pocket and nodding at the two goons to take their hands back too, leaving Ray tied to the chair in the centre of the room. The knife was still hanging from his arm, but adrenaline and fear had taken over in an instant, blocking him from most of the pain. “Monroe… that double crossing _bastard_.”

“Yep!” Ray winced as he felt the sharp sting of a fresh wound at his throat. “Asshole. Worst guy ever- I talked, can I go?”

Scar-face looked at him and smiled. Ray smiled back, heart practically lifting from his chest at the thought of being untied and sent on his damn way. He’d stumble back Home, Michael would patch him up and they’d never speak of it again. That’s how things usually went back at their apartment after close-calls with death, or worse, the police. They moved on, forwards only. Ray and Michael had never needed to look back.

But then, scar-face drew his gun and aimed it at Ray’s head and suddenly, Ray wanted nothing more than to step back in time to the moment he suggested robbing the minute-mart rather than the 7/11. Was it really such a crime that he didn’t want to lose his slushy privileges?

“Do I at least get a few last words?” Ray asked quietly. Scar-face grinned.

“No.” he shook his head. “You, little fucking snipe-rat, you’re getting exactly what you fucking deser-”

The gun fell from his grip before his body had a chance to tumble to its knees, one pretty bullet hole red and glowing in the centre of his bald head. The blood ran down in streams from the centre of his brow down to his eyes, but it was too late to worry if it would sting. Scar-face was dead, and the three of them- Ray and the two goons- remained completely still, staring at the culprit.

Ray could barely make him out, with his vision flagging from the suddenly profuse blood loss he was feeling. All he could see was darkness, as two more shots rang out and the two goons, Rodger and his high-pitched friend, joined scar-face on the floor in a pool of their own blood.

“Dude?” Ray mumbled, eyelids drooping slightly as he fought to stay awake. “Are you some kind of angel?”

“I wish.” A dark skull swam into Ray’s vision. “I’m the Vagabond.”

It didn’t matter how light-headed he felt, nor how much of his own blood was trickling out from his arm and soaking his jacket. Ray’s eyes blew wide, and he stared at the man before him. A dark skull-mask covered his face and his torso was adorned by a black and blue leather jacket, just like the legends always said. Ray knew of the Vagabond of course. Everyone in Los Santos had had a cousin who had had a friend who had had a sister who had caught glimpse of him, maybe just the once. The Vagabond was a spirit, more so than he was a man. He existed in the shadows, traipsing his way through Los Santos under the order of Geoff Ramsey, possibly the only person more elusive than he. Geoff Ramsey ran Los Santos, or so the rumours had it. He was never seen, and nobody dealt with him directly. Some people said he was a rich heir to one of the main American conglomerates and he used his money for evil rather than good, like a reverse Batman. Ray had always preferred the alternative story: That Geoff Ramsey was a man who was not human. A man with magic in his fingertips and reality at his will. It always made for much more interesting conversation.

“Why are you here?” Ray asked, as the Vagabond bent down behind the chair to untie the thick knots binding his wrist. “I mean… how? Why?”

“Because.” The Vagabond shrugged, casually as he stood before Ray again. “Geoff Ramsey said so.”

Ray frowned. Because, what on earth would someone as incredible and unearthly as Geoff Ramsey want to do with somebody as averagely boring as himself? He played video games, and sniped for money. Aside from the occasional robbery with Michael, that was his life. He didn’t _do_ anything else, he wasn’t _magical_ or phenomenal in anyway.

“Why?” he asked again. The Vagabond tilted his head slightly, but behind the dark mask, his facial expression was completely unreadable.

“I don’t know the reason.” He said. “But… Geoff believes you have purpose and therefore it would be a tremendous waste for you to meet your end at the hands of a random thug with a grudge…” he trailed off, looking behind them to scar-face, laid dead on the floor with fresh blood seeping into his brown jacket.

“Are you really magic?” Ray asked, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. The Vagabond looked back at him for several silent seconds, as Ray frowned and did his best to stare back. It was hard to maintain eye contact with someone when you couldn’t make out much more than dark face-paint in the eyeholes of their mask.

“Yes.” The Vagabond eventually said. “Here.” He reached forwards, and Ray couldn’t help but flinch. He was distrustful, for obvious reasons, but as Ryan pulled the knife from his arm and black sparkling smoke spilled from his sleeve, Ray’s body relaxed. He was encapsulated by the black smoke as it swirled around him and The Vagabond stepped back, watching intently as the wounds and the bruises healed themselves. When Ray opened his eyes again, he felt as if he could bound up from his chair and run a mile. He felt like he could leap from the top of the Maze Bank and live. He felt like he could run down Mount Chilliad on foot without so much as a scratch.

“Holy shit.” Ray stood slowly, looking down at his body. “You’re fucking _magic_? Jesus!”

“Not quite the son of God, but thank you for thinking so.” The Vagabond chuckled, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “Now come on, I’ve got a car out front. I’ll take you home, seeing as you don’t drive.”

“Huh?” Ray frowned, peeling off his bloodied hoodie and dropping it beside scar-face’s body. “How did you know that?”

“I have a reasonably approximate knowledge about most of the people in this city.” The Vagabond shrugged as they walked towards the doors. “However, I pride myself on having _extensive_ knowledge of the people Geoff take interest in, Ray Narvaez Jr.”

“Jesus.”

“Like I said.” He chuckled, smacking the red button that closed the warehouse doors once they stepped out into the sunshine. A gleaming black and green _Zentorno_ was waiting for them outside, and Ray resisted the brief urge to drool in favour of listening to what the Vagabond had to say. “Not quite Jesus. Not an angel either. Just… me, I suppose.” He shrugged, reaching forwards to open the passenger door. “Get in.” he nodded. “I’ll get you home safe.”

“I don’t know.” Ray eyed the pristine dark leather interior. “Mom always told me never to get into cars with strangers.”

“I’m not your mother.” The Vagabond replied as Ray took his seat, closing the car door with a loud slam.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rain had just begun to fall by the time they made it back, small and shallow burst of water littering the sleek windscreen of The Vagabond’s sports car. He kept the mask on whilst they drove, breaking both speed and physical limits as they tore through the streets. Ray would be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous. He didn’t know how good the Vagabond’s peripheries where through his creepy carnival mask. He was also far too terrified to ask.

The Vagabond pulled up outside his and Michael’s building silently, without having to even ask if the address was correct. He reached forwards to tap a button on the display, and Ray’s passenger door swung open.

“Neat.” Ray mumbled, pulling his hoodie over his head as the rain started to intensify, stepping out of the car. The door closed behind him before he could finish turning around, and for a second he thought he had lost his chance to ask questions. However, slowly with a faint mechanical whirr, the opaque window rolled down halfway. “Hey, man?” Ray leant forwards. “Will… will I see you again? You know… for Geoff Ramsey or… whatever?”

“Almost certainly.” The Vagabond nodded, turning to watch him. Ray could just about make out his eyes, wide and blue and unblinking behind their confinement. “Look, Ray- if you ever need me, all you have to do is call.” He said, as the window slowly wound back up to a close.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ray shouted, tapping against the window. However, it was seemingly too late, because the car engine began to hum and before he had a chance to try the door, the Zentoro had shot off into the wet streets, leaving Ray alone on the sidewalk.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael’s shouting could be heard from the end of the corridor.

Ray spotted their nosiest neighbour, a woman in her late sixties with a penchant for bringing them homemade mac and cheese when she ‘accidentally’ made extra, stood on her doorstep with a worried expression, staring down towards their door. However, when she turned and saw Ray, her face softened.

“Oh Ray! You’re back! Michael’s been so worried, yelling all sorts of nonsense- you know that boy with his profanity problem.”

“I can imagine Mrs Brown.” Ray nodded. “I’ll go set him straight. You should get back inside.”

She smiled. “Something’s different about you, boy. You look like you’ve been touched by a damn angel.”

Ray smirked. “You know what, Mrs Brown? You’re not far off.”

She left Ray with a warm smile before turning back into her apartment, and with a skip in his step he rocked down to his and Michael’s home, turning his key and opening the door slowly. Michael was stood in the centre of the room, bright red in the face and angry, screaming down the phone something that sounded like a threat but was voided by the lump of emotion in his throat.

“I swear to God Brandon- if you don’t have eyes on him in fifteen minutes I’m going to take my fist and shove it up your-”

“-hey now.” Ray interrupted, pushing the front door closed behind him. “No need for all that. Mrs Brown was getting worried about you.”

“Fucking…” Michael’s eyes blew wide in a swirling mixture of rage, relief and shock. “Ray!” he dropped the phone completely, sprinting at full pelt across the room to grab Ray tightly and pull him into a tight embrace. Ray hugged his friend back, allowing Michael to bury his face into the crook of skin between his neck and his shoulder, stroking his back comfortingly. “I’m back buddy.”

“Oh my god!” Michael exclaimed, pulling back but keeping a tight grip on Ray’s upper arms. “What the _fuck_ dude! I come outside and you’re nowhere to be seen! Not answering your fucking phone, not checked in with anyone! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that to me?”

“Well.” Ray swallowed awkwardly as Michael’s eyes searched his for answers that he wasn’t sure how to construct. Michael had given him a lot of questions. It was hard to narrow down which was the most important and needed to be addressed first. “Uh. It’s kind of a long story.”

“What is it?” Michael frowned, and his voice turned softer. He could see, instantly that something was wrong, and Ray cursed his best friend for being able to read him so well. “What? Are you hurt? Ray, talk to me!”

“I’m fine.” Ray sighed. “Well, I am now. Dude. You’re not going to fucking believe a word of what I’m about to say, like-”

“-I believe you.” Michael interrupted him. “Ray. I fucking believe you, whatever it is. Tell me.”

Ray marvelled at Michael’s complete faith in him. It was something as strong as concrete, the trust the other held in him and sometimes it frightened Ray just how much he could lie to his best friend, if he ever needed to.

“I…” Words failed him as the image of the Vagabond’s skull whirled through his mind. “I…”

“Dude.” Michael squeezed his right arm gently. Ray cringed at the feeling of fresh blood pumping through his skin replacing the tip of the knife. “You can tell me. Fucking spit it out.”

“Michael…I…” Ray watched as Michael’s eyes searched his for any scrap of information they could find. He swallowed, around nothing and everything. The truth was probably the most ridiculous lie he could come up with anyway. “I met the Vagabond today.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sat on opposite ends of the wrinkled, torn, old leather couch that had sat as their apartments centre piece for the last five years. Ray hugged his knees to his chest and absentmindedly scratched at the strip of healed skin where a bleeding wound should’ve been. Michael sat with his back pressed against the supple seat cushions and his legs planted firmly on the flood, hands wrapped together tightly in his lap.

“I told you you wouldn’t believe me.” Ray attempted to smile, breaking the silence. His false joy was futile, as gone was the adrenaline of his rescue and the relief of being alive. All he was left with was the truth- he had met the Vagabond, and more importantly, the Vagabond had met _him_.

“I believe you.” Michael nodded. “I just… fucking can’t even… fucking, _fathom_ it. I guess.”

Ray sighed, rolling his head tiredly around his shoulders until he heard the familiar click of his joints. He looked up just in time to see Michael turn and stare at him with an unreadable expression. That was worrying. Ray had always been able to read Michael.

“What’re you gonna do?” Michael asked quietly. Ray looked away.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, standing up from the sofa and stretching his arms behind his back. “Fucking… smoke a joint, get into bed. Sleep until noon and forget this ever happened, I guess.”

“Seriously?”

Ray looked down at Michael and with a tired smile, he nodded. “Fucking really. Goodnight Michael.”

“Alright.” Michael nodded, but he didn’t look anything near satisfied. “Fine. Whatever. Goodnight Ray.”

Ray left the room silently, but inside his mind was racing at a similar pace as that of the Vagabonds car. His mind spun with images of skull masks and butterfly knifes until his hands were shaking too much to roll and he had no choice but to climb into bed completely sober, wet tears clinging to his cheeks.

 

 


	2. Pecan Pie and Broad Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vagabond gives Ray and Michael a job on behalf of Geoff Ramsey. Their reward is plentiful.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO // PECAN PIE AND BROAD SHORTS

 

 

 

_Three weeks later_

 

 

Normality, or at least normality to a criminal in Los Santos, is a surprisingly easier concept to return to than Ray had originally assumed. It was a little odd for a week or so, a constant looking over his shoulder for The Vagabond’s looming presence and suspicious glances from Michael in the dead of the night, but after a while thing returned to exactly how they had once been.

It was Chinese night, they always had Chinese night every third Friday of the month. It was an old tradition that had stemmed back to the early days of their friendship, and, being the fifth month of the year, it was Ray’s turn to pick up. He’d become distracted on the way in by the glowing slushy sign at the 7/11 and bought himself an extra-large blue raspberry, cool ice slipping down his throat as he bowled through the dark streets towards _Wan-ton Palace_ , their Chinese take away of choice.

Michael had offered to go that particular night, some far-fetched story about him owing Ray for their fourth last Chinese. Ray ignored his pathetic attempt of safeguarding him inside their home (so nobody except Michael could ever lay a finger on him again) and pulled on his familiar purple hoodie and checkerboard vans without space for further argument.

He was both delighted and regretful of this when a shadowy presence stepped in front of him in the alleyway. A body wrapped in a dark leather jacket with blue panels across the shoulders, and most importantly, a dark grey skull mask with screaming blue eyes hidden behind it. Ray almost wanted to be scared, until he caught the quirk of a smile underneath the mask.

“Hello Ray.”

“Vagabond.” Ray nodded in acknowledgment, taking a sip from his slushy. “How goes it?”

“We need to talk.” The Vagabond said. “Geoff has been keeping a few eyes out on you and your friend, Michael. He likes what he sees and he wants me to give you this job-”

“-Dude.” Ray interrupted. “Look, I get that you’ve got a flair for the dramatics, but is there any way we could do this somewhere that isn’t a dark alley down the side of 7/11? Like, is it against the fucking spirit rules to sit down in that diner across the street and talk like normal adults?”

The Vagabond cocked his head to the side curiously, and for a few seconds, Ray wondered if maybe he had gone too far and that The Vagabond was going to deck him square in the jaw for his troubles.

“I suppose that would be okay.” Vagabond nodded stiffly, before setting off at a brisk pace towards the neck of the alleyway, Ray dumbfounded and stood stock-still behind him for a few seconds, mouth hung open.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Ray jogged to catch up once the Vagabond hit the road, walking straight across the middle without care for traffic or roadside safety. Ray followed him without question until they were stood outside the _Green-Light All-Night_ diner, The Vagabond’s hand already pressed against the cool glass with one foot in the door.

“Dude- wait!” Ray stopped him. “You can’t be walking in there with that thing on,” he pointed at the mask. “People will freak the fuck out, thinking they’re getting robbed by a ghost!”

“Oh.” The Vagabond nodded once. “Well, I’m not a ghost. Or a spirit, for that matter- what made you think that?”

“Just take the damn mask off.” Ray rolled his eyes. He was sick of the charade, and he owed it somewhat to his own personal integrity that if he was going to make this fraternisation with an urban myth a regular occurrence, he was at least going to see the guys face- if he had one at all. Aside from the mask, The Vagabond had seemed human enough, with calloused pale hands and denim-clad legs and normal enough looking feet, shrouded by dark boots. However, when he reached up without question to pull the mask off and shook the hair out of his eyes, Ray dropped his slushy on the pavement.

“ _Vagabond_!” he exclaimed. The Vagabond frowned at him. “You’re fucking _hot_!”

“Thanks.” The Vagabond rolled his eyes, pushing the door to the diner open. “And hey. You can call me Ryan, if you want.”

“Ryan.” Ray played with the name in his mouth, repeating it, changing his pitch and rolling his R every now and then as they sat down at a booth and Ryan ordered a single slice of Pecan Pie. He paused briefly in the middle to order a chocolate milkshake and text Michael that he had ran into some important business and wouldn’t be home until late before continuing, until The Vagabond, or _Ryan_ sighed loudly and very quietly asked if he would stop.

“Sorry.” Ray laughed. “Just… _Ryan_. Is that your real name?”

“Well.” Ryan tilted his head slightly, and Ray was relieved to see that it looked far more innocent without the mask, and noted the way his brown hair bounced around his brow as he did so. “I was born James, and Ryan was my middle name, but I’ve always been Ryan as far as I remember. My mother only ever called me James if I was in trouble.”

“I’ll bet that was a lot.” Ray scoffed, as the waitress bought over their desserts. She spent a particularly long time smiling at Ryan as she dropped his pie in front of him, but he didn’t seem to even register her flirtatious glances. He was too busy watching Ray with that same, vacant expression, and it was surprising how much Ray enjoyed the attention.

“Not really.” Ryan shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth. “I was a relatively well behaved child.”

Ray rolled his eyes, but didn’t press further for information. It was surprising enough that The Vagabond wanted to be so open with him, so he thought it would be best not to push him for much more. “So,” he asked instead. “This… job, or whatever...”

“Oh, yes.” Ryan dropped his fork to root around in the inside pocket of his giant leather jacket. Ray watched with a gaze hungrier than he’d intended when Ryan pulled the zip down to reveal an impressively broad chest wrapped in a tight t-shirt underneath the leather. “Here.” Ryan pulled out a bright red file, and slid it across the table before tucking into another mouthful of pie. Ray sipped his milkshake, and reached across to take the papers. “It’s a relatively easy job.” Ryan explained. “Should be easy enough for the pair of you.”

“Boat party?” Ray held up two brightly coloured tickets with a confused frown. “What kind of job is this?”

“Just a little petty theft.” Ryan shrugged. “The host of the party has a package that Geoff needs. It will be locked in a room at the heart of the ship. All you’ve got to do is sneak past the guests and the few security guards and nab it. It’ll only be small, so it should be easy to hide.”

“You’re quite handsome.”

Ryan frowned, chewing his pie. “Thank you.” He swallowed.

“I’m serious,” Ray leant forwards on his elbows and smiled. “If you don’t mind me saying, that is.”

“I don’t.”

“Cool.” Ray nodded. “Just… I gotta ask, and don’t stab me- but why the mask? I mean you’ve got these awesome blue eyes, good bone structure, just the right amount of facial hair.” He took advantage of the opportunity to take Ryan in properly, eyes dragging slowly from his thick hair to his soft, yet toned ches.t “No… facial deformities, or at least that I’m aware of?”

“Nope.” Ryan agreed. “I don’t hide my face because I don’t like it.” He said, shovelling the last heavy mouthful of pie. “I just like to remain anonymous.” He chewed and swallowed, as Ray watched him with a curious, yet intense gaze.

“Huh.” He said, after a considerable pause. “Are you like, retarded?”

Ryan frowned. “No. I’m very mentally able.”

“Right.” Ray nodded. “Do I get to ask another question?” Ryan nodded. “Cool. Uh, so, how did you meet Geoff?”

Ryan hesitated, and Ray caught it immediately. His usually stoic, vacant expression dropped for a second and his body fell backwards slightly to lean against the red cushion of the booth. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, staring at the window above them briefly before eventually answering, “Story for another time.” In a rushed mumble. “Take a good look at those plans.” He said, and then dug around his pockets and produced a bright blue leather wallet, which he rifled through and pulled two ten dollar bills from. The money was laid flat on the table, bills crisp and bright. Ray couldn’t help but notice how suddenly, Ryan couldn’t make eye contact with him anymore. “It’s a test, I’ll tell you that in advance, just don’t let Geoff know. If you and Michael do well, Geoff will be very happy to work with you again.”

“Right.” Ray nodded as Ryan began to stand. “I’ll… be seeing you around then?” he asked.

“Yep.” Ryan zipped up his jacket, and started for the door. “Just call if you need me.” Ray heard him mutter, but before he could question it, the bell on the door had already rung and Ryan had already disappeared into the street.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 The job was easy enough. Michael had described it quite accurately: a frat-boy princess party with plenty of underage tits to distract the big guys from the rats. The rats, in that metaphor being them. Ray wasn’t sure if he liked that part.

The small package was almost certainly cocaine, Michael had decided as he weighed it in his hands a final time before leaving it at the drop off point listed in the file Ryan had handed Ray five days previous. It was a blue mail box on the corner of Malibu Drive, inconspicuous enough to see two duded in floral shirts and broad shorts, Michael’s pale skin red with sunburn and Ray’s hairy arms bared to the population, dropping off a simple package to be mailed to a friend. Ray assumed there was some sort of dark magic that turned the mail box into a portal from another dimension, but Michael was still sceptical.

“Let’s be realistic. It’s probably just a mailbox.” He shrugged, as they walked the remaining few blocks back to their apartment. The playful bickering continued all the way up to their apartment, the whole elevator ride to the thirteenth floor and the entire stretch of their corridor, until Ray became too distracted to listen to Michael’s ramblings by a small package laid on their doorstep.

“-besides, think about the expenses! I bet magic is expensive as shit, so they save it for-”

“-Dude, look.” Ray interrupted, lifting the package. It was addressed to both of them with no address, meaning it had been hand delivered somewhere between when they left at one o’clock and now.

“Boys!” Both Michael and Ray turned to see Mrs Brown behind them, waving from her doorway. “A kind man named Ryan came by and told me to let you know that package is from him. I was a little suspicious as first, but then he offered to come in and change that flickering light I’ve been pestering you about! Such a nice friend you got there.” She smiled.

“Mrs Brown, I would’ve fixed that light for you.” Michael said. “I was just…”

“Busy, I know.” She smiled. “It’s no bother son, the amount of repairs you’ve done for me over the past few years. Tell your friend I said thank you.”

“Thanks Mrs Brown.” Ray turned the parcel around in his hands. It had a considerable weight to it, and when they entered the apartment he placed it down on the kitchen counter.

“What do you think it is?” Michael asked. Ray shrugged.

“Only one way to find out, he grabbed the parcel by the corner, tearing the paper open. The parcel itself was only a small rectangle, but when Ray tore it open it suddenly felt weighted. He tipped it like a bucket, and starting with a single floating twenty-dollar bill, money started to spill out. The weight of the envelope became almost too much, and Ray had to push with all his strength to keep it tipped, as countless twenty dollar bills followed suit and spilled out like fish across their kitchen counter. Michael’s eyes lit up and he rushed over, watching in silent awe as the money stacked and stacked and stacked.

When the envelope was spent, Ray laid it down on top of the pile. “Dude…” he breathed. “I fucking told you they were magic.”

“Fuck _me!_!” Michael exclaimed with a laugh, reaching forwards to scoop a handful of money. “There’s gotta be at least thirty grand here dude! What the fuck!” he laughed, almost hysterically, before grabbing handful of money and trying to count it. Ray watched on with a weak smile, but somehow he didn’t feel the same level of joy or excitement as Michael in that moment.

His best friend was babbling a mile a minute as he scooped the money into rough piles across the counter, stooping down to scoop the parts he had missed, but when Ray didn’t reply to a single one of his countless questions, he looked up.

“Dude?” Michael asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Uh…” Ray shrugged, eyeing the money. “I just… don’t you feel weird? Like… working for someone who we don’t know, who we’ve never even seen or spoken to?”

“Not really.” Michael replied, honestly. “I… cash is cash Ray. This place,” he looked around at their apartment with a fond smile. “It doesn’t pay for itself. Besides… you know Ryan, right?”

“I guess so.”

“And hey- why don’t you ask him?” Michael asked. Ray rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you think I would’ve if the dude gave me his cell phone number? He keeps fucking saying- oh, _if you need me just call me_ … but he never says _how_. I mean… would the Vagabond even _have_ a phone?”

“Well…” Michael pouted. “He’s… magic, right? Why don’t you just… _think_ really hard? Maybe his Spidey senses will pick up on it.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Ray glared. “Just… you good sorting the cash out? I think I need to go to sleep anyway.”

Michael smiled at him, reaching across the counter briefly to squeeze Ray’s shoulder in a way he must’ve thought was comforting. “I got it, buddy.” He nodded. “Night.”

“Night.” Ray replied.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michael’s idea was still stupid, but Ray didn’t have much else to go on. So, once the clock on his nightstand ticked past two AM, he pulled his hoodie on and stuffed his feet back into his vans before heading out of the apartment. Some of the money was still littering the sides, Michael must’ve given up before collecting it all. Ray tried not to look.

He didn’t venture far from his building, walking down the quiet streets and staring at the sky. _Could it really be that easy?_ he wondered. The Vagabond- or, “Ryan” did seem pretty mystical and creepy. Was it really so far-fetched that he could be listening, even now?

“Hearing this, Ryan?” he decided to speak aloud. “I’m trying to figure you out. Let me know if it works.”

“It worked”

Ray jumped at least a foot backwards whilst simultaneously drawing the pistol he kept on him at all times, pointing it at the voice that had startled him. Ryan had appeared, window wound down in that black Zentorno beside him on the road, mask off. He was smiling softly, as if Ray wasn’t aiming a loaded pistol directly at his face with an intensity in his eye usually reserved for sniping.

“Glad you figured it out.” He said, before handing a brown, A4 envelope out of the window. “Geoff was very impressed. Here’s your next assignment.”

Ray lowered his gun, and hesitantly, reached over to take the envelope. Ryan didn’t give him much of a chance to respond, just gave one last smile before winding up the window and speeding off into the night.

“Fucking… creepy motherfucker.” Ray mumbled to himself, turning around and heading back to his building.

 

 


	3. Real-Life Shrapnel and Mortal Kombat X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ray have a job that gets a little hairy. Later, they introduce Ryan to video games, and an unfamiliar face crashes the party.

CHAPTER THREE // REAL LIFE SHRAPNEL AND MORTAL KOMBAT X

 

_Four weeks later_

 

 

 

“How the _fuck_ could this have possibly gone so wrong?”

 

 

Up until then, things had actually been looking almost okay for Ray and Michael. The jobs from Geoff Ramsey had continued in a steady flow of nondescript envelopes being dropped off at their doorstep or tossed casually out of a tinted window when a Zentorno whipped past in the night. Ray was still a little suspicious of Ramsey’s overall intention, but Michael seemed happy enough. And Ray couldn’t blame him. ‘Cause sure, every job was getting just that little bit harder- drug pickups and pickpocketing turning into planting sticky bombs and taking out big faces in the gang scene- but their payment was increasing exponentially. They actually had gathered over the last month enough cash to buy their apartment out from their landlord, along with a completely chrome Adder to replace the beat up old Honda Civic that had previous ferried them from spot to sport.

Michael was in love with the thing- his reflection a beaming, love struck grin every time he caught sight of it in the car door. Or the hood. Or the roof-

“What on earth made you think a completely reflective chrome car was a good idea for two criminals who rely on _laying low_?”

“What? So cause I’m a criminal I can’t have nice things?”

There wasn’t much left in the argument after that, because every time Ray brought up the absurdity of the spray job and the number of dollars it was costing them in uptake (a tiny scratch on a Honda Civic was unnoticeable. On a completely mirrored _atrocity_ , it meant an entire new door was necessary) Michael could just point out that Ray couldn’t even drive, so instead of complaining he should call his magical boyfriend and ask for another job so Michael could afford to change the colour of his custom leather interior.

Their latest job had a few red flags in the report. Ray had mused over it briefly as Ryan leant against his car with a bored expression under his mask and his arms folded across his chest, looking around the streets like he had somewhere that wasn’t the sidewalk to be.

“I don’t know, Rye. Seems a little… out of our league.”

“You’ll be fine.” Ryan shrugged. “Geoff believes you can pull it off- and hey, if things get hairy and you need a quick out, just call me. I’ll be there.”

Ray had made the mistake of relaying the exact conversation to Michael, who’s eyebrows had skyrocketed when he saw the potential payoff and started googling how much it would cost to buy a private jet. That was why, laid on his belly behind a box of ammunition, shooting blindly above as guys in suits with guns showed up in S.U.V after S.U.V, Michael was screaming at him from the balcony: “Call him, Ray! Fucking call him!”

“We can handle this!” Ray picked off another few guys before reloading his pistol. “Look, just get the last packet and head to the helicopter. Then, you can use the guns to take out the rest of the assholes and come get me after!”

Michael was mumbling curses into the earpiece they were talking over but stood up anyway, narrowly missing a few bullets as he combat-rolled down the stairs and laid a serious stream of bullets from his shiny new mini-gun into one of the S.U.V’s until the engine blew up. However, although the explosion _looked_ cool as fuck, and Ray could see the grimace on Michael’s face from his crouched position in the corner of the hanger’s base level, clearly he hadn’t anticipated the close proximity. Ray watched in horror as a shrapnel flew through the air, splattering him in his right arm.

Michael fell to the ground, clutching his bicep as Ray stood up and screamed his name. He made a move to run over, before one of the guys they were supposed to be fighting took another shot at them, grazing his shoulder. Ray dived back to the ground.

 

 _Fuck_. He thought. _I really didn’t want to have to do this but… Ryan dude- I need you. Like **now.**_

 

The roar of the engine was sweet, sweet relief to Ray. He didn’t stop shooting, but suddenly, he didn’t fear much for his life either. Ryan slammed the driver’s side door of his car closed and clenched his gloved fist as he marched into the hanger, every gun in the room turned on him. The guys they were fighting didn’t hesitate in amazement like Ray wanted them to- but every single bullet they fired into Ryan bounced right off the air around him. Ryan didn’t even flinch. Ray froze.

Ryan, or The Vagabond- as he certainly was in that moment, raised his hand and sent all the guys flying backwards around him. They all smacked into the concrete ground with some satisfying _cracks_ , before their guns, one by one, raised into the air and turned on them. Ryan clenched his fists and the pistols fired, before he dropped his hand and looked away. As he did, the guns fell back to the ground, useless plastic as they were.

“Ray?” he called, taking his mask off.

“Over here.” Ray waved, leaning against the wall and dropping his gun now the threat was gone. Ryan jogged over, crouching down to stood beside him as Ray clutched his shoulder and gritted his teeth.

“Thanks, dude. For you know… saving me. Sorry if Geoff’s mad.”

“He isn’t mad.” Ryan reached forwards, slipping Ray’s hoodie off and revealing his bloody arm. Ray blushed as Ryan looked up at his face, realising for the first time that he had never ever been this close to Ryan’s face before. It was nice. He was warm, in a strange, glowing sort of way. “He’d be mad if you were dead because of your hubris. Never be afraid to ask for help.” Ryan rested his hand over the wound and Ray only grimaced for a second before a pleasant kind of tingling ran through his body and the skin around the graze fused back together. Altogether, it only took around ten seconds- Ryan gently stroking the healed skin of his arm with the pad of his thumb afterwards.

“Uh, thanks.” Ray blushed again. Ryan smiled.

“No problem.”

“Hey!” Michael’s voice called from the balcony. “If you guys are done… I kinda got my right arm fucking ripped apart by shrapnel so I’d also like a healing. You know, if that’s not too much trouble.”

Awkwardly, Ryan’s pale face flushed pink and he stood away from Ray, turning around and walking towards Michael. Ray got back on his feet and watched with a strange smug smirk as Ryan reached a hand out to Michael, pulling him down before touching his arm and healing it. He couldn’t help but note how formal and clinical it looked, when Ryan fused Michael’s skin back together. It wasn’t _intimate_ in any way- not like the moment they had shared.

“So, Rye.” He asked afterwards, as they made their way out of the hanger. “How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Ryan skipped over his question, opening the driver’s side to his car. “I’m glad I could help the two of you out but… I’ve really got to go.”

“No biggie.” Ray shrugged. “Have a… good day, I guess? Thanks for not letting us die.”

“Yeah,” Michael added, scratching the freshly healed skin of his arm. “Thanks for that.”

Awkwardly, Ryan nodded at the two of them before pulling his mask back over his head and slipping into the car. Ray smiled and waved as Ryan started the engine, and equally as awkward, Ryan waved a gloved hand back at them before reversing down the runway, spinning his car around and roaring off in the opposite direction.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Ryan’s totally got a crush on you.”

Ray choked, a long string of cheese sticking to the inside of his throat. Michael patted him harshly on the back, but Ray waved him off- chugging from his _Redbull_ to wash it down.

“Dude.” He wheezed afterwards, wiping the tears from his eyes. “No he _doesn’t_.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Trust me.” he said. “He does. He’s not ugly either, under the mask.”

“Not Ugly? Dude, even I can admit that Ryan’s _hot_.”

“I don’t know about that.” Michael wrinkled his nose. “I mean; I didn’t get a good look at him through the blistering pain followed by weird tingles but- I wouldn’t say he was _hot_.”

“Dude- you didn’t look close enough! Once you see how blue his eyes are close-up, changes his whole face. He’s hot as fuck. Trust me.”

“Nah.” Michael bit into another slice. “I don’t buy it.”

“Hey, Ryan?!” Ray called aloud, grinning as Michael rolled his eyes. “If you’re not busy or anything- I really need your help with something. Like, super serious. Life or death even, like-”

“-What’s wrong?” the front door flew open and Ryan sprinted in, gun in his hand and mask covering his face as Michael and Ray dissolved into giggles on the couch. “Uh… are you… okay?”

“I’m fine, just… do me a favour?” Ray asked. Ryan stood still.

“ _Anything_.”

Michael bit back a snicker. Ray felt his cheeks heat up and he bit his lip.

“Take your mask off.”

Ryan reached up to his face and pulled the mask off, standing awkwardly in the centre of the living room. Michael hummed approvingly.

“Okay, maybe you were right. He _is_ hot.”

The pink that spread across Ryan’s cheeks was adorable, and Ray couldn’t help but grin as he sipped from his Redbull. “Was… was that all?” Ryan asked. “No danger?”

“No danger.” Ray smiled. “I just wanted to see you and prove a point to Michael. You’re welcome to stay and… hang out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ryan said awkwardly, waving his hand and closing their front door. He didn’t move from the spot in front of Michael and Ray, until Michael huffed- “Dude, you’re not transparent. Sit down, eat a slice of pizza or something. We’re playing Mortal Kombat.”

“Mortal-Kombat??” he questioned as he stiffly lowered himself to the couch, reaching for a slice of pizza and taking a small bite. Ray nodded. “Mortal Kombat.” He repeated. “X. It’s a video game. You play?” he held out the controller to Ryan, who shrugged.

“A little.” He said. “Geoff likes them and sometimes I play with him.”

“Well, take it away.” Ray tossed him the controller, which Ryan caught in one hand. “Michael’s pretty good though, no pressure.”

“Dude- he’s beating me already.”

Ray looked at the screen where Ryan’s character had done a perfect somersault before launching its foot into Michael’s character’s jaw. Michael’s character staggered, before falling to the ground as Ryan’s laid into him with more kicks and punches. Ray watched in awe for the next fifteen minutes a Ryan’s fingers danced over the controller, beating Michael round after round until his best friend tossed the controller and folded his arms over his chest.

“No fucking fair, asshole. You’re fucking… magic or whatever. Unfair advantage.”

“it’s not that complicated a game.” Ryan shrugged. “I… like it.”

“Me too.” Ray smiled at him. “I’ll play you next.”

“Sorry boys, party’s over.” Another voice said. All three of them turned, Michael’s gun already out, safety off, pointed at another, unfamiliar man who was standing in their re-opened doorway.

“And who the fuck are you?” Michael stood, re-adjusting his aim so that his gun was trained on the centre of the man’s forehead. He was wearing a formal looking button down blue shirt over dark, expensive looking jeans, and gold sunglasses covering his face. He didn’t flinch as Michael flicked the safety off his gun, just straightened in the doorway and lifted his sunglasses up to his forehead.

“Aren’t you fiery?” He smirked, knocking the gun from Michael’s hand with only a vague nod. “I’m here to collect Ryan. Play date’s over, buddy.”

“This is Gavin.” Ryan explained, sounding a little dejected as he stood up, setting the controller back down onto the coffee table. “We work together, for Geoff.”

“Gavin?” Michael scoffed. “What kind of fucking name is that?”

“It’s _my_ name, Michael _Vincent_ Jones.” Gavin, who was apparently British, told them. “Hey, do people ever call you _Vinny_?” Michael’s glare was silent, yet deafening. Gavin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay, don’t answer that. Now come along, Rye. Home time. Geoff needs you for something.”

“Dude!” Ray stood as Ryan moved towards the door. “Don’t go. You promised we’d play.”

Biting his lip, Ryan looked from Ray to Gavin and back again.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’ve got… work to do. Another time, I promise.”

Without saying anything else, Gavin slipped his sunglasses on and disappeared around the corner, Ryan following him. Ray pouted, slamming the front door shut before marching back over to the couch and flopping into it. Beside him, Michael only smirked.

“Dude.” He grinned. “You’ve got it _bad_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone in the comments asked when Gavin was going to show his face so the Mavin could start! Here he is, cocky, insatiable and a massive prick. Same old, same old.
> 
> Unsurprisingly, it isn't love at first sight.


	4. Sulking Sadness and 'Real' Chinese Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan goes M.I.A for a little while, and Ray certainly isn't happy about it. Gavin shows his face again. Michael and Ray steal an armored truck.

Chapter Four

 

 

 

After their interrupted Game Night, Ray felt an almost immediate shift around his life.

It started with small things. Ryan didn’t deliver their jobs anymore by hand, Ryan didn’t appear out of nowhere in his sleek black sports car with an envelope of plans and a soft sort of half-smile on his face. Instead, Ray would open the door when going to take the garbage out or get a slushy and would find an envelope laid on their doorstep with the details of whatever ridiculous caper Geoff Ramsey needed them to do. Every time Ray stumbled onto one, his heart would sink a little further with the weight of disappointment.

Michael noticed. On jobs, Ray was lacklustre and quiet and more or less completely un-invested. For some reason, if Ryan didn’t explicitly ask him to do his fucking job, he didn’t want to do his fucking job. It wasn’t like any of the work Ramsey had been sending them was increasing in difficulty. Clearly, he had noted their limits after their close call in the hanger and didn’t want to push them too far again too soon.

But Ray was _bored_ of the drug pick-ups and the quiet take-outs. He was bored of Geoff Ramsey and his money and Michael’s fucking obsession with buying stupid shit they didn’t need. He wasn’t, however, the least bit bored of Ryan yet.

He had tried to call- after the first forty-eight hours of The Vagabond’s silence Ray got bored and went for a walk around the city. His steps lingered, half-expecting Ryan to appear to him out of the shadows in an alley or to pop up from a fucking manhole, but sadly he walked alone and went home without the feeling of protective eyes over his shoulder. He had even wandered around for an hour or so more than usual, calling out in his head as best he could but Ryan didn’t show. Ray pretended like it didn’t hurt. Michael didn’t believe him.

They ran six or seven jobs over the course of four weeks, and by the time the eighth arrived (a nondescript brown envelope laying on their coffee table when Ray got up for leftover pizza at eight am) Ray flopped back in the couch, folded his arms, pouted and refused to move a muscle.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole-”

“-Nope. I’m not going.” Ray glared straight ahead at the TV, _Chopped_ playing quietly in the background.

Michael whined, “Why not?” and Ray did his best not to sound like a bitch, but ultimately there was no getting around it. “Because if Ryan doesn’t wanna fucking come here and tell me what I did wrong to my face, then I’m not working for him.”

Michael glared at him, and opened his mouth like he wanted to retort, before thinking better and clenching his fist by his side. “Fine.” He muttered. “I’m going to the bar to get drinks with Miles and Lindsay.” He turned around storming over to grab his leather jacket which was hanging by the front door. “Call me when you stop being a bitch.”

“Maybe I wanna be a bitch.” Ray muttered under his breath. Michael pretended not to hear him, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him like an angry teenager. Ray exhaled as soon as he was gone. He _was_ being a bitch. Obviously he knew that- but it hurt. He kept on calling Ryan, he kept on getting ignored and it _hurt_ , because he had just started to wonder if maybe, underneath all the mask and the magic, they could’ve maybe at least become friends.

“You getting all this Ryan? You fucking asshole?” Ray yelled at the ceiling. “I’m not so much as touching this job. Not if you don’t show up.”

“Why not?”

Ray scrambled to his feet as Ryan appeared, seemingly from the corridor that lead to his and Michael’s bedrooms. His stomach twisted and suddenly, he felt all the anger rush from his body. Ryan didn’t look so angry either, which surprised him. He’d been looking mostly to get a rise out of the masked man, maybe force him to show up out of annoyance, they’d bicker it out and ultimately, Ryan would ask him to do the job and he’d say yes. But Ryan didn’t look angry.

Ryan looked _tired_.

He didn’t have his mask on, so Ray could see the dark looking circles decorating the bags around his eyes. His hair looked less _blonde_ and more brown, and as if he could hear Ray’s subconscious point it out, he ran his fingers through it anxiously.

“You okay dude?” Ray asked. Ryan looked away.

“I’m fine. Why won’t you do the job?”

“…uh, well… I…” Ray had, in a single second, forgotten all about the job. What the fuck did that matter- Ryan was _here_ and he was alive! He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Michael nor himself, but a small part of him had feared the worst when Ryan hadn’t showed the first few times. But now he was _there_ \- living and breathing and glaring in Ray’s apartment, gaze tired and distant, like his mind’s focus was somewhere else, far away.

“Where’ve you been?” Ray settled on asking, dodging Ryan’s question. “Just… I called a couple times and-”

“-And I didn’t hear you, obviously.” Ryan snipped. “Forgive me, Ray, but I do have a life that revolves around other things besides you. I have work to do- work I should be doing right now, but I’m not- I’m _here_ , because you won’t stop screaming and whining and it’s rather distracting.”

“No need to be a fucking asshole!” Ray frowned. Ryan said nothing, just huffed and leant back against the wall, tucking his hands into his pocket. His gaze didn’t leave Ray’s. “I just… I guess I’ve decided I don’t so much like the idea of taking all these orders from a guy I don’t even fucking know, right?”

“Ray.” Ryan sighed, and he sounded so exhausted, so _exasperated_ that Ray wanted to lurch forwards and pull him into a comforting hug. However, he remembered he was supposed to be angry so his feet remained flat on the floor and his arms came up to fold around his chest. “I do _so much_ for you and you have _no idea_.” Ryan said. “I spend every spare moment I have looking after you, I _always_ come when you need me- and you can’t even do this one thing for me? You can’t just do the job and not ask fucking questions and drag me all the way down here at eleven forty-five?”

“No.” The word escaped Ray’s mouth before he had a chance to stop it, and he fought the urge to let his hands fly to his mouth and pull it back. It was too late- he’d said it, and Ryan had heard. Ryan had heard enough, as he leant up off the wall and turned around- walking away towards the door without so much as a goodbye.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The guilt was the first thing that hit him, come the morning.

“Done being a bitch?”

Ray glared at Michael as he shuffled over to the kitchen, pulling a can of sprite out of the fridge and grimacing as the harsh carbonation ran down his throat. Michael frowned from his seat on the couch, sitting up slightly to get a better look as Ray leant over the kitchen counter on his elbows, head rested in his hands. “What? Something happen?”

“Ryan came over last night.” Ray explained quietly. “We uh... sorta had a fight. I gave him a hard time.”

“Huh,” Michael leant back into the couch. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ray shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’d rather just sit around and play video games and _not_ talk about it, to be honest.”

Surprisingly, Michael didn’t press for details. He just gave a sort of half-nod and picked up their two X-Box controllers, which were laid side by side on the coffee table. Ray chugged half his sprite and burped obnoxiously before flopping down on the couch beside his best friend.

“You wanna play Call of Duty?” Michael asked him. Ray let out an involuntary snort. Clearly he must have looked like a wreck if Michael was offering him _Call of Duty._

“Sure.” He nodded.

For the rest of the day, they sat together and played. Michael didn’t ask any more questions about Ryan, Ray didn’t give any more information. By the time it came to dinner, Michael didn’t even bother asking before dialling their local Chinese place and giving their usual order for delivery.

Aside from the lingering guilt and sadness in the back of his mind, it was a pretty typical night for him and Michael. Unhealthy food that would be burned off running for their lives and video games. If anything, Ray was actually starting to feel better.

And then the door knocked.

“That can’t be them already, can it?” Michael asked, a worried frown setting into his face as he picked up his pistol from the coffee table. Ray shook his head wordlessly. They had only ordered the food fifteen minutes ago, and the Chinese place usually took at least an hour to deliver. That was why they always collected.

Michael approached the door slowly, peering through the peephole. Clearly he recognised whoever was on the other side, but possibly not for the right reasons, because he dropped his gun but did not put it away. Ray held his breath, hoping that Ryan wouldn’t be on the other side but also praying that he was.

“’Ello lads.” Gavin dangled the carrier bag of food in front of Michael’s face, grinning as he tilted his obnoxious gold rimmed glasses down his nose. “Yours?”

Michael glared at Gavin, but stepped backwards, inviting him into the apartment. Ray let out a tense and disappointed breath. Gavin didn’t seem to notice their discomfort, strolling into the room with the same coy grin he usually wore, setting the Chinese food down on their counter along with a brown envelope.

“Apparently someone was getting a bit shirty that they stopped getting hand deliveries,” he said matter-of-factly, eyes darting to Ray briefly before he delved into their bag of hot foot, fishing out a prawn cracker and taking a loud bite. “So here I am.” He smiled.

Ray rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Is this actually our food or did you just steal it off some poor fucking delivery driver?” Michael asked as Gavin reached into their cupboard and pulled out three plates. “Cause that Chinese joint is pretty fucking slow on response time.”

“I got this from somewhere else.” Gavin explained, patting Michael’s cheek condescendingly. Ray didn’t miss the way his best friend blushed when Gavin’s skin touched his. “Cancelled your order from bloody _Jasmine Palace_ \- that place is gross. This is _real_ Chinese food.”

“From where?” Michael poked at a bit of beef with the fork Gavin had passed him, laying it on his place. A mischievous smirk crossed Gavin’s face and he shrugged, peeling off the lid of a noodle dish. “China.” He answered.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Am I?

“Cut the bullshit. What’s the job.” Ray piped up, bored already by the bickering. He hadn’t moved from the couch, uneasy with Gavin’s presence. His stomach turned as Gavin slurped down a few noodles, before wiping his greasy fingers on the expensive-looking material of his blue shirt and reaching for the envelope.

“Armoured truck.” He explained, pulling a few photographs of a white delivery van out of the envelope which were then laid on the table, side by side. “Geoff needs you to steal it and drop it off in one of his rented garages here, up in mountain country.” He pointed vaguely at the map. “I’ll send over more details when I have them, but he wants it by Wednesday night.”

“Wednesday? That’s like, four days away?! Dude!”

“Sorry Michael.” Gavin shrugged, biting into a dumpling. “I don’t make the rules. Just get it done this time, yeah?” he shifted his gaze over to Ray, who stood up from the couch and flipped him off lazily, before the scent of the food drew him over to the counter. Gavin was an asshole- but Ray supposed he wasn’t enough to lose appetite over.

“Where’s Ryan, anyway?” he asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant as he stacked his plate with sweet and sour chicken. Gavin’s lazy smirk dropped, and he looked down at the photos again. “He’s, uh, busy right now. He’s busy for a while actually, so get used to my mug poking around, making sure you’re doing as your told.” He looked back up then, directly at Michael and smiled. Michael huffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the photos from Gavin’s hand. “Alright, easy!” Gavin laughed. “You better do this job, or Geoff will be _bloody livid_.”

“ _Bloody livid_.” Michael mimicked rolling his eyes again. “We’ll do the fucking job, okay?” he looked at Ray. “ _Okay_?” he emphasized. Ray huffed.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Lovely,” Gavin beamed, looking between them both but subconsciously allowing his eyes to linger on Michael for a second or so longer. “I’ve gotta get out of here, but I’ll be seeing you lot soon. Sleep with one eye open, yeah?” he winked, and Michael choked on his food. Ray stifled a laugh, and Gavin chose to have no reaction other than a tiny, tiny smile, before he slipped his glasses over his sparkling eyes and wandered out of the apartment.

Once he was gone, Ray allowed himself to laugh as Michael glared at him. “What?” he snapped. frowning. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing dude.” Ray pressed his lips together tightly in an attempt to stifle his laughter further. “Nothing at all.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael was laughing manically as they steered the truck off into an unmarked dusty road, wind whipping through his almost reddish hair as he wound the windows down and hung his face out, cheering. Ray couldn’t quite bring himself to share his joviality.

The job had gone fine. Nothing had gotten too hairy, and even Ray had to admit that he and Michael had done a _good job,_ simply by doing as told. The information left for them by Gavin had been nothing short of reliable- from the quickest way to hotwire the van down to the shift patterns of the security guard around where it was parked. Whatever was in the back had to be worth some serious money, because the cops had been swarming behind them once they made their escape onto the freeway. However, they’d been easy enough to evade- and once Ray picked off the pilot in the helicopter chasing them, they were more than well in the clear.

They left the truck in the dust field Gavin had set out for them where a nippy little Bifta was waiting for them. Michael drove them home with an excitable babble, reliving the day’s events whilst Ray remained quiet. Halfway through the drive, once Ray’s lack of response became blindingly obvious, Michael stopped talking. They pulled up outside the apartment, and both climbed out. Ray mumbled something about needing to take a walk, and Michael didn’t try to stop him.

It was late evening by then, and Ray was more than happy to wander the narrow streets around their home as the sun set. For once, he hadn’t even been thinking of bumping into Ryan, but he supposed the universe had a cruel way of toying with his mind. He didn’t even have to look around when he heard the faint rumble of an all-black sports car pull up behind him to know that it was the Vagabond, and his suspicion was confirmed when the car slowed to a stop beside him and the window was rolled down.

“Wanna go for a drive?” Ryan asked, slipping his mask off. Ray said nothing, just rounded the car and slipped into the passenger seat.

It was tense between the two for a minute, Ryan sneaking guilt-ridden looks in Ray’s direction whilst Ray played with his fingers, locking them together and pulling them apart nervously. Ryan cleared his throat.

“Look, I’m kinda breaking the rules by being here but… I wanted you to know that I’m really sorry.”

Ray laughed, despite himself.

“Dude, it wasn’t your fault.” He resisted the urge to look over at Ryan, who was surely staring at him with his baby-blue’s wide and helpless. “I was being an asshole.” He continued to mess with his hands, cracking his knuckles loudly. Ryan didn’t flinch. “I guess I just… hate the way you’re so controlled. Like a fucking employee, you know? Like you don’t have a say in anything you do.”

“Well, in a sense, that’s exactly what I am.” Ryan replied, leaning back into the plush leather seat. Ray chanced himself and looked over. Ryan, thankfully, was staring straight ahead at the empty stretch of road in front of them. “I’m an employee. I owe Geoff- and I mean I owe him _a lot_. Nothing you do can ever change that.”

“Hey.” Ray said, prompting Ryan to look over. The two locked eyes and a few silent seconds passed between them. “I wish I could change that.” Ray said, eventually. Ryan shot him a small smile, before slowing the car to a stop, and muting the engine.

“Wishing is for children, Ray.”

Ray frowned.

“Where are we?” he asked instead of responding, peering out the window in search of a distraction from the weight of Ryan’s statement, but the tint was too dark to make much out.

“Your apartment.” Ryan replied. He pressed a button near the steering wheel, and the passenger side door crept open. Taking that as his hint, Ray climbed out the car silently. He didn’t look back, making his way back into the apartment, but the familiar hum of the engine speeding away made his stomach drop to his gut.

He and Ryan were cool now, right? Isn’t that what it was all about?

Why did he still feel so uneasy?

 


	5. Glitter Balloons and Penthouse Suites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ray actually have a day off. Then, of course, Gavin shows up and ruins it.

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE // GLITTER BALLOONS AND PENTHOUSE SUITES

 

 

_2 WEEKS LATER_

 

 

In the two weeks since Ray had finally seen Ryan again, he’d done his best to be _good_. That meant taking jobs, resisting the urge to sock Gavin in the face, and listening to Michael’s advice. He didn’t necessarily like it, but Ryan had broken the rules for him. Ray could only try and pay the guy back by actually doing his fucking job for once.

However, it was his and Michael’s day off. They’d had a couple of smaller runs for Geoff during the week but this was the first night in several that they were free. Michael had suggested heading down to play Lazer tag with some of their other friends, but Ray had countered that the last thing he wanted to do on his day off was hold a toy gun and play gangster. They did that on the three hundred and sixty-four other days of the year- but for real.

So, instead they hung around the apartment. Ray’s ideal day off was video games and minimal discussion, but as usual Michael was far more interested in _chatting_ , asking about Ryan and if they’d _made up_ yet. Ray rolled his eyes, wondering if Michael only insisted on asking him the questions because he couldn’t think of anything else to say anymore. He had to admit that getting into bed with Geoff Ramsey had limited their conversational topics, because now, all Michael wanted to know was what was going on between himself and The Vagabond- something that he wasn’t entirely sure of himself.

Before Ray could expertly avoid Michael’s questioning and steer his best friend back towards the Xbox, their front door swung open and Gavin swaggered in, golden sunglasses perched on the top of his head and hands tucked into the pockets of his skin-tight jeans. Michael rolled his eyes as Gavin strolled in, but Ray didn’t miss the tug of a smile on his lips paired with the less-than-subtle drag of eyes down a slim figure. _Fucking great_ , he thought. _The last thing I need is Michael having a thing for fucking Gavin_.

“Hello lads.” Gavin pulled the glasses off and tucked them into his shirt. “I’ve got news.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Michael asked, pretending to glare. Gavin grinned at him flirtatiously, and the slightest hint of pink rose to Michael’s cheek. He covered it pretty well, stormy gaze doing its best to hide his blush.

“Mr big-boss, daddy Geoff Ramsey wants to meet you two. Today.” Gavin said, and Ray dropped his controller. Now, for once, Gavin had his attention. He turned around to face Gavin at the same time Michael did, dark brows skyrocketing to his forehead. “Geoff Ramsey…” Michael repeated, looking between Gavin and Ray briefly. “Wants to meet _us_?”

Gavin nodded. “Uh-hu.”

“Today?”

“To- _night_. It’s your day off, silly! He knows that.”

Michael leant back into the sofa, and wheezed out a long breath. “ _Fuck_. That’s… fucking crazy.”

“He was always going to want to meet you guys,” Gavin shrugged casually, sauntering over to their fridge and pulling out a beer without asking. He popped the cap on the side of their counter and took a long sip. “Why else would he be sending you all this work, testing you guys? Congratulations, you passed.” For effect, he waved his hand flippantly and a balloon materialised, floating over and lifting Michael’s hair with static electricity. Michael frowned, batting it away and into the light fixture, where it hit a particularly sharp corner and popped. From inside, a handful of glitter and confetti fell, decorating the top of the couch like snow on a mountain as well as both Ray and Michael’s hair and shoulders.

“Oh, fuck you.” Michael sneezed, shaking glitter out of his hair whilst Gavin giggled.

“I’ve written down the time and location. When you arrive, just ask for the penthouse and use the codename _Achievement_. See you later.”

Not long after that, Gavin left the room, the door floating shut behind him. Michael was muttering under his breath, but the wry smile on his face was clear to see as he brushed glitter off the kitchen counter before grabbing the Dustbuster to suck it off the floor like the neat freak he was.

“So,” Ray hopped onto the counter, ignoring Michael’s glare. “We gonna go?”

“Don’t see why not.” Michael shrugged, emptying the Dustbuster into the trashcan. “Gavin seemed pretty hasty, so I guess the dude wants to meet us real bad.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Ray swung his legs, bumping the doors of the lower cabinets. “What if he’s just luring us there to fucking… I don’t know, slit our throats?”

“I doubt your precious Ryan would let that happen.” Michael rolled his eyes, walking around to the fridge and pulling out a beer. “Plus, Gavin can’t lie for shit. If they were planning on offing us, the idiot would’ve probably let it slip by now.”

“Fine.” Ray sighed, letting Michael revel in the smug assumption that _he_ had been the one who’d made the decision. Really, Ray had known from the moment they were invited that they _had_ to go. He’d fucked Ryan over enough times. He wasn’t about to let him down again.

 

 

* * *

 

Ray watched as Michael’s face twisted into a frown, stood on the concrete sidewalk with his hands fixed on his hips, glaring upwards at the tall, non-descript grey building. He looked from the building to his phone, where the address Gavin had left them was pictured and then, over to Ray.

“This _can’t_ be it? Can it?”

Ray shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems pretty… inconspicuous.”

“In-fucking-conspicuous?” Michael spluttered. “It’s a giant ass fucking building in the middle of the city skyline. You’re telling me…” he looked around, before lowering his voice and hissing “ _Geoff Ramsey_ would be living here, right under everyone’s noses?”

Ray looked up at the building. “More like above everyone’s noses.”

Michael’s response was a glare. Ray ignored him, shrugging again, unsure of what else Michael wanted him to say before he tucked his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts and strolled, as nonchalantly as he could, into the building. Michael followed closely behind.

There were plenty of people bustling about the building, as from the main lobby is seemed to be used mostly for business. Men and women were walking briskly in all different directions in their drab grey suits with their expensive looking briefcases and botox frowns. Michael and Ray couldn’t have looked any more out of place in their ragged jeans and old hoodies and faded beanies. Trying to ignore the watching eyes of the people below they slipped into an expensive-looking elevator, red velvet adorning the walls and golden guiding over the bars that surrounded the mirror. A uniformed concierge, a tall slim man with pencil moustache stood silently beside the floor numbers, awaiting instruction. Ray and Michael looked at each other awkwardly.

“Uh… penthouse, please?”

“Password?” the man’s voice was unnervingly deep, compared to his slight and lanky frame. Ray swallowed thickly.

“-Achievement.” Michael butted in before he had the chance. The elevator was once again silent, and, after a few seconds of clearly careful composure, he turned and slipped a small golden key from his pocket. That key was then put into a slot on the very highest button, which then illuminated, and the lift shot upwards.

“Hey, that was easier than I-” Michael’s words were cut off by an awful screeching, followed by a sudden acceleration in the lifts speed. Both Michael and Ray flinched at the noise, ducking low before holding onto the railings around the side. The concierge didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

Wind whipped through the cracks of the elevator doors as they shot up, higher and faster. Michael reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pistol- but before he had the chance to make much of a threat, the elevator stopped completely.

“What the fuck?” Ray mumbled, disorientated as he struggled back up to his feet. The concierge looked over at him. “The penthouse, sir.” He said, gesturing to the doors. Slowly, the wood slid apart, and Michael too scrambled to his feet, gun outstretched in his grip.

On the other side of the doors, a man stood. He was of average height, average weight. His hair was dark- black even- in wiry tufts around his thinning hairline, the occasional hint of grey peppering the edges. His eyes were blue- they reminded Ray of Ryan’s, but somehow, seemed much more powerful. He was dressed in an off-white t-shirt that had a vague looking orange stain on the left of his chest, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and his feet were bare. In his hand, he held a bowl of cereal which he was eating from, chewing loudly as he stared at the pair of them. This man was completely unremarkable- bar the blurring rainbow of intricate tattoos that covered his arms.

Still, Ray found he couldn’t even speak. Michael too, was frozen.

“Oh, hey.” The man said eventually, voice muffled by the soggy cereal he was still chewing. He looked them up and down casually, but didn’t seem to take much about them in at all. “I’m Geoff. Geoff Ramsey.”

After that, once Michael and Ray’s jaws were both simultaneously swinging onto the floor, another voice was heard from behind Geoff. “Sorry about that!” called a female voice, and Michael and Ray tore their eyes away from Geoff to see a woman emerge from within the penthouse. Her hair was russet, a vibrant ginger sitting in curls at her shoulders and her face looked kind. The gun in her hand, however, did not. “Sorry about Geoff.” She came over to them, smiling brightly. “He’s not so good at making first impressions. I’m Jack, Jack Pattillo. Nice to meet you two kids, come on in.”

Shakily and silently, Michael and Ray followed her orders. They stepped out of the elevator and further into the penthouse, where Geoff and Jack were stood in the middle. Geoff waved his free hand briefly and behind them, the elevator doors snapped shut.

“Jack’s right, I am shit at first impressions.” Geoff said, tossing his cereal bowl into the air. Ray tensed, anticipating the loud smash it would make as it hit the ground- but no sound ever came. The bowl floated in the air, and he watched intently as it flew its way over to the open kitchen, before sitting itself gently in the sink. “But who gives a fuck about that. I’m the most powerful man in the world. Why the fuck would I need first impressions?”

“Can you at least get dressed?” Jack folded her arms over her chest. “You look like a homeless person.”

“I look _comfortable-_ ”

“That shirt hasn’t been washed in three days, and you _know it_.”

“Jack, how many god-damn times. I am _magic_. I don’t _need_ to wash my fucking clothes because they don’t fucking _stink_.”

“It’s just the _principle_ , Geoff!”

“Alright, enough!” another voice could be heard, and thankfully, this time it was one both Michael and Ray recognised. Gavin rounded the same corner Jack had done, sunglasses pushed up above his forehead. “Lovely Michael and little Ray!” he cooed, walking over and hugging them both tightly. Michael frowned, pretending not to enjoy Gavin’s close proximity and Ray squirmed. The only person he was interested in seeing next around the mysterious corner was Ryan.

“Sorry about mum and dad here.” Gavin elbowed Jack softly, earning him a fierce glare. “They love to bicker. You’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to it?” Michael repeated. “What the _fuck_ is going on here?”

“I’m Geoff Ramsey. I’m sorry, was that not clear?” Geoff asked, frowning. “You know, the guy you fucking work for? That’s me. Hi, nice to meet you, kid.”

“Yeah- I got that part.” Michael glared. “I just wasn’t expecting the fucking six-flags elevator or the homeless fucking messiah and his wife. Or a fucking luxury celebrity home hidden in the top of an office building or this British fuck-” he pointed accusingly at Gavin, who grinned. “-being everywhere I fucking turn.”

At the end of the outburst, the room was quiet. Gavin was still grinning, and even Geoff was nursing a vague, knowing smirk. Ray kept his lips closed in a firm, thin line. Michael’s chest heaved, and his cheeks blazed red.

“O…kay.” Jack said eventually. “Well, this is hardly the time but- Geoff and I… and Gav and Ryan would love for you to become part of the Fake AH Crew.”

“Are you fucking _serious_?”  Michael laughed. “You want _us_ to be part of your fucking ‘crew’, if that’s what you’re calling it? No thanks. I’d rather not be treated like a fucking slave like those fucks.” He glared at Gavin. Ray could only think of Ryan, who was still absent.

“Yeah.” He added in a mumbled voice. “Thanks but no thanks.”

In unison, they both turned and headed back for the elevator doors. However, they didn’t get very far, footsteps blocked by an invisible wall that forced them back around. Geoff, had one lazy arm outstretched.

“I apologise. Clearly you’ve misunderstood.” He said, holding them in place with a vague smile. “You’re under the impression that that wasn’t just a polite formality. You already work for me, under my brand- _Achievement Hunter_. This is merely an official contract to be part of the core crew, cause I like you kids.” With his other hand, he routed around in his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a folded and vaguely crumpled piece of paper. “If you accept, then happy days. If you decline… well, to put it quite simply, I’ll just have to ruin you.” To emphasize, he gripped his fist ever so slightly, and both Michael and Ray choked, feeling pressure against their throats. “Capeche?”

Ray nodded, painfully. “Capeche.” He repeated. “I capeche. Let go!”

Geoff smirked. “Say please.”

“Geoff.” Jack butted in, a scolding tone taking over her voice. “Put the boys down. They didn’t mean no harm.”

Geoff looked from Jack, to Michael and Ray. Then, back to Jack.

Ray felt the sudden rush of air back into his lungs. Beside him, Michael doubled over, coughing.

“I’ll give you some time to consider.” Geoff reached further into his pocket ( _How deep were they, anyway?)_ and pulled out a bottle of beer. He twisted the top, and took a deep chug. “See you on the flipside, yeah?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The journey home was silent.

Michael’s fingers gripped the wheel of his obnoxious adder, and his glare was fixated at the open road in front of them. Ray chose to stay silent, fiddling with his phone and desperately calling out to Ryan in his head. If there was any way he was going to survive the evening, he was going to need backup.

Michael was _pissed_. That was obvious by the way he stormed up to their apartment and immediately disappeared into the shower. And Ray couldn’t blame him. By shacking up with the idea of the elusive Vagabond and agreeing on both their behalves to take jobs from him, Ray had successfully signed their entire lives away. They worked for Geoff now, whether they liked it or not.

Ray was just contemplating his odds of survival if they took off _now_ , emergency bags bouncing on their backs and one way tickets out of the city, the state, the country, when the front door blew open and Ryan stepped in.

He wasn’t even dressed in _Vagabond_ gear, for once. A white T-shirt (minimal bloodstains) hung over jeans, which hid ugly black sneakers. On his head, covering his beautiful brown hair, was a red cap. Ray couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

“Woah, didn’t realise you were a _DILF_.” He teased. Ryan tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry.” Ray rolled his eyes. “What’s with the get-up?”

“I was undercover.” Ryan explained. “I haven’t been home to change yet. You sounded kind of scared when you called so I came straight here. I guess you’ve met Geoff?”

Ray huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You could say that.” He said, walking over towards the living room area. Ryan followed him awkwardly, arms swinging by his sides. It always had amused Ray, the way Ryan managed to live his life looking like he had no idea how a human body worked. But then- with all his mysterious glowing powers- _was_ Ryan even a human? Was _Geoff_ , or _Gavin_ , or any of the Fake AH Crew? They all seemed to share similar powers, and Geoff was obviously the strongest out of the group. _What_ on earth were they? - because Ray had heard rumours of power-sucking parasites and mystical wizards, but he’d put it all up to myth.

Where did that leave Ryan, and his mysterious friends? Aliens? No, that was too obvious. Science experiment gone wrong could’ve been an explanation, if the weight in Geoff’s eyes hadn’t been decades older than the rest of his body.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Ryan winced, pulling the red cap off his head and rubbing a hand through his hair. “I try not to listen but you’re really projecting. I must teach you how not to do that.”

“Oh.” Ray blushed. “Sorry.”

Ryan smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not an alien, by the way, you’re right. I’m one-hundred-percent human. Gavin too, and Jack. Geoff, we’re not so sure but- he’s older than most countries, America included. He probably doesn’t remember where he came from by this point.”

“He’s… intense.” Ray said. He and Ryan had wandered over to the living room, but neither made a move to sit down. Ryan stood completely still by the coffee table. Ray walked over and stood somewhat in front of him, slouched and anxious with his arms over his chest and his head bowed.

“He is.” Ryan agreed. “It’s always an event when you meet Geoff for the first time. Underneath all the craziness, he’s a pretty nice guy. Takes care of his own. I really would advise you and Michael to take him up on his offer, because his threats are _not_ hollow.”

Ray sighed. “I know.” He said, quietly, and briefly looked over in the direction of the bathroom, where the shower was still pouring loudly. “I just… I don’t know if I want to just give up my fucking freedom, Michael’s too. All to work for some fucking magical rich dickhead? I don’t know man…” he trailed off, but Ryan stepped forwards. Without hesitation, he reached forwards, and took Ray’s chin in-between his thumb and forefinger.

“I used to think of things that way too.” Ryan said. “And then… for a long time, I used to think that just _following_ _orders_ was the only way. And then… I met you.” He smiled. “And now I think that maybe I’ve found somewhere in the middle that works.”

“Rye.” Ray blushed, looking away. Ryan guided his face back, so he had no choice but to maintain intense eye contact. “Fuck you and your stupid ability to always say the right thing. God dude. You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Sorry.” Slowly, Ryan let his hand fall from Ray’s face and back to his side. Ray _couldn’t_ help himself. He missed the feeling instantly, and his body ached to be closer. How hard really could it be- to reach up and kiss Ryan? Ryan didn’t seem like the type to get around much, but surely he knew how to kiss at least? He couldn’t be a virgin. He was _way_ too hot for that.

Pink darkened Ryan’s cheeks. “Ray.” He said. “You’re… uh… projecting again.”

“Shit.” Ray bit his lip. “So you heard all that shit about me wanting to kiss you?”

“Some of it.” Ryan nodded. “It was more in flashes. Thanks? I guess.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Hesitantly, Ryan reached forwards again and tilted Ray’s chin upwards. Then, he leant forwards, and slotted their mouths together. Ryan’s kiss was delicate, feather light and almost innocent. Ray couldn’t help but grin into it. He hadn’t been innocent a day in his life.

Ray tiptoed up, wrapping his arms around the back of Ryan’s broad shoulders and successfully pushed their faces closer together. From there, he had better angle to deepen the kiss, nipping at Ryan’s lip playfully before teasingly coaxing his lips open. Ryan didn’t seem to complain, hands settling down at Ray’s waist and gripping him tightly, until they touched at every point of their bodies. Ray hadn’t even thought about stopping to pause for breath- he hadn’t considered stopping at all, but suddenly in the back of his mind he remembered Michael.

The shower was no longer running. In the background, faintly, he heard wet footsteps appear in the hallway.

Ray pulled out of the kiss, leaving Ryan leant over with his mouth puckered, brow furrowing as Ray moved away from him. Ray cursed Michael’s timing, as his best friend padded into the main room unassumingly, towel wrapped around his waist and chest bare.

“Oh, hey Ryan.” Michael nodded. Ryan straightened, and within seconds, had regained complete composure. “Hello, Michael.”

“Here to threaten to break our legs if we don’t agree to Geoff’s deal or something?” Michael asked, walking over to the kitchen and routing through the fridge. Ryan looked over to Ray.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Something like that.”

 

 


	6. Geoff's Heist & Ray's Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ray accept the terms of Geoff's proposal. A small, taster heist is put into action. Things don't go entirely to plan.

 

CHAPTER SIX // GEOFF'S HEIST & RAY'S REWARD

 

 

 

 

Their second trip to the penthouse was far less eventful.

This time, the lift didn’t stutter and shoot up randomly to frighten them, and the concierge didn’t bother speaking to them at all before jabbing the ‘penthouse’ button with his thumb. Geoff wasn’t even stood waiting for them, ominously, and dressed like a homeless wizard.

He was actually sat on the couch with Gavin, dressed in _actual_ clothes as they channel surfed with the repeated snap of Geoff’s fingers. Michael and Ray wandered in with a shred more confidence than they had the first time, and after a silent minute or two, Michael awkwardly cleared his throat and caught their attention.

“Michael!” Gavin sat up from where he was laid with his head against Geoff’s bicep and grinned, just a head appearing above the sofa briefly before he stood and bounced over to them. “Come and sit, lads. We’ll talk business over _Ridiculousness_ hour.” He nodded to the TV, which Geoff had finally stopped flickering through.

“I’m guessing you’re here to accept my offer?” Geoff smiled knowingly at them as Ray and Michael settled on the other hot-red leather sofa in the room. Silently, Michael and Ray nodded. Something sparkled in Geoff’s eye. “Good decision.” He quickly became very animated, sitting forwards and outstretching his hand to shake, pleased. Michael eyed it like a live bomb, hands still by his sides. Ray sighed, and made the first move, reaching out to accept the handshake. Geoff’s shake was surprisingly firm, and his hand tingled slightly with something that wasn’t quite pain afterwards. Only after he’d seen Ray survive, did Michael reach across and too, shake his hand.

“So, when can you move in?” Gavin asked.

“Move in?!” Michael spluttered. “What do you mean?”

Gavin and Geoff shared a brief look. Then, Gavin let out a small laugh. “Well, we all live here, donut. Only makes sense that you would join us in the penthouse! Think of all the _fun_ we could have, boi! It gets boring around here with just the gents sometimes.”

“The gents?” Ray questioned.

“Me, Ryan and Jack.” Geoff nodded. “It’s our team name, Gavin came up with it. You dickheads are the _lads_.”

“Lovely little lads!” Gavin added. Michael’s mouth was still hung open, dumbfounded. Ray’s was shut tightly.

“No fucking way,” Michael finally forced words from his lips. “We’re not fucking… packing our shit and moving in tomorrow because we agreed to work with you. We’ve already got a place-”

“Downtown, yeah I know.” Geoff nodded. “It’s fine, Michael. You and Ray can keep your place, for a while. I would like it if you would consider moving in eventually, but no rush. I get it.” He said.

“ _What_!” Gavin exclaimed. “ _Geoff_! You’re just going to let them say _no-_ ”

“-I am.” Geoff cut him off, standing up from the sofa as Gavin’s shocked glare followed him. “Quit gawking, you’ll catch fucking flies. Now I’ve got work to do, so feel free to show yourselves out.” He nodded politely at Ray and then Michael. “I’ll be in touch soon. Gavin, go with these dickheads and make sure they get home alive- got it?”

Gavin looked like he wanted to continue protesting, and Michael’s annoyed glare at the prospect of _carpooling_ with Los Santos’ most wanted wasn’t helping, but he kept his lip zipped and nodded in submission. Geoff then melted into a happy smile and ruffled Gavin’s hair like he was his son, or a pet, before turning heel and heading off into the depths of the penthouse, whistling cheerily as he did so.

“I just can’t _believe it_.” Gavin continued his _dazed and confused_ routine up as they slipped through the streets back toward Michael and Ray’s place. “He’s just _letting_ you keep it? Geoff would _never_ have let me keep my place, back in the old days. Since when is he such a bloody _softie_? Since _when_ , huh?!”

“Fucking shut the _FUCK UP_.” Michael snapped. Gavin practically jumped out of his seat at the raise in volume, but Ray didn’t flinch as he slouched in the backseat. He’d spotted the tell-tale signs around five minutes into Gavin’s rant- the way Michael’s brow furrowed impossibly tightly and his fingers gripped the steering wheel with a new intensity. The explosion was long-coming. “Shut _up_!” Michael repeated. “Why the fuck are you even here, Gavin? Other than to fucking annoy me?”

Despite his initial surprise, Gavin didn’t seem shaken by Michael’s outburst. In fact, he was _smiling_. That was a new one. “Just a formality.” He explained with a shrug and a smirk. “You know, keep an eye on the newbies. Make sure you’re not ratting or anything awful like that- so get used to my mug following you around for a few days.”

Michael huffed and rolled his eyes as they turned into their building’s carpark. “Whatever.” He mumbled.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Geoff told them over the phone what the first _Fake AH Crew_ heist was, Ray waited for Michael’s spontaneous combustion.

“Fucking _WHAT_?!” His best friend wasn’t one to disappoint, phone in his hand and on loudspeaker as he glared at it. “A fucking _convenience_ store. Are you _serious_?”

“ _Look Michael, we need to start small_.” Geoff had explained. _“I need to see if we can work as a team, the K-Mart is an easy hit, minimum risk of incarceration and even if- and that’s a big fucking if- any of you dickheads get caught, you won’t be thrown into a maximum security prison and I’ll be able to bail you out without having to stage a prison break.”_

“Whatever.” Michael huffed, but he was considerably less defiant. Ray didn’t know what it was- if it was some kind of spell or magical _aura_ , but Geoff just had something about him that was effortlessly _authoritative_. He had the kind of voice you would _never_ dare to defy.

The heist itself was easy enough. Geoff wanted a real-life example of what they _could_ be, with a little polishing and bigger taking so he paired them off accordingly. Ray was positioned opposite the store, on top of an old car-wash with his sniper rifle. Geoff and Gavin were outside in a car to do the actual thieving. Michael was hidden around the corner providing cover fire _if_ the cops showed up (and they hoped it was a big _if_ ) and Jack was hidden on the other side, motorcycle at the ready for Geoff and Gavin’s grand escape. Ray’s motorcycle was against the car-wash, in prime positon to take he and Michael to the meeting point.

Ryan was their pilot, and the plan was that when Geoff and Gavin left the store they would split- Gavin around the back to hop Jack’s motorcycle and Geoff, to jump into the helicopter as Ryan made a less than legal landing. From there, they were supposed to all convene at the pier and hop into a boat- taking them out into international waters for mimosas and cigars.

That had been the plan. However, things hadn’t quite gone all-the-way-to plan.

Firstly, Ray had sprained his ankle when he made the _executive_ decision to jump from the ten-foot-high car wash building to the floor once the police started swarming, but he was pretty high from the adrenaline and but the pain behind him for long enough to pick Michael up. However, as they’d rounded the back of the convenience store, Michael on the back with his gun in his hand a brief lapse in judgement paired with a lot of shouting had led to Michael pulling the trigger, gun aimed at Jack.

Surprisingly, Jack didn’t even flinch, glancing down at the growing bloodstain on her chest as Ray and Michael sped away.

 _“Michael shot me!”_ she yelled into their coms, but there was laughter in her voice. _“Michael fucking shot me. Dude, what the hell?”_

“Sorry Jack!” Michael yelled back, as Ray tore onto the highway. _“I- I just saw the shirt and it fucking threw me through a loop- I don’t know why I- shit, sorry- are you okay?”_

 _“She’ll be fine.”_ Geoff laughed. _“Just focus on getting to the meeting point.”_

 _“I don’t know Geoff.”_ Ray took that moment to pitch in, too frazzled by the adrenaline in his veins to even question how Jack could’ve been shot in the chest without dying. “ _We’ve got a lot of cops behind us. Are you sure we should just try and lose them? Otherwise we’re leading them right to you.”_

 _“Ray’s right_.” Ryan’s voice crackled over. Ray almost flinched- he’d forgotten Ryan was there. He’d been eerily silent up until then. _“Lead the cops somewhere else. We’ll change the rendezvous point to the penthouse.”_

 _“But- mimosas! International waters and mimosas, Rye, you promised!”_ Geoff whined, sounding more like a spoilt child than their actual boss. Ray did his best to ignore them, but it was cute, the way Ryan stuck up for him. They hadn’t spoken much since their kiss- but really, it was because they hadn’t found a minute alone. Ray knew that realistically they needed to discuss it, but that would have to wait until a moment when the cops weren’t literally up their asses.

 _“Hey, where’s Gavin?”_ Michael asked over the commas. “ _Gav- or sorry, Beta-whatever. Report?”_

 _“Gav’s with me_.” Jack’s voice replied. “ _We’re heading back to the penthouse too so I can heal. Cops stopped tailing us like twenty minutes ago.”_

 _“But thanks for being worried about me Michael!”_ Gavin added. Michael huffed.

_“Whatever. Just making sure your bony ass is still alive. We’ll meet you back at the penthouse. Over and out.”_

After that, Ray felt Michael shift behind him as he ripped his comms out and tossed it behind them, into the road. he was muttering under his breath, something about _stupid fucking Gavin_ , but Ray did his best not to listen. Really, it was quite cute. He was sure Michael wouldn’t want him to think that.

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time they arrived back at the penthouse, after driving to an almost-empty tank trying to lose the cops up in the mountain country of Los Santos, everyone else had already arrived. Geoff- for whatever reason- was soaking wet, mumbling under his breath about Ryan being a _fucking traitor_ as Ryan smirked from behind, leant against the wall, twirling a butterfly knife expertly between his fingers.

“Where’s the cash?” Ray asked, looking over to Jack who was sat casually on the couch, watching the TV. The gunshot hadn’t done much damage, apparently, as she seemed upright as ever.

“Bottom of the fucking ocean.” She rolled her eyes. “Ryan and Geoff had a dispute over who got the final cut, considering the rest of us didn’t “play our parts”, dickheads.” She glared over at both of them and scoffed.

“I hate you all.” Michael was a little behind, limping in, and as soon as he was noticed- Gavin jumped up from his seat next to Jack. “Michael! Are you okay?” he asked. Michael bit his lip. Before he had a chance to lie, Ray cut in.

“He got shot, in the leg. We were actually wondering if someone would be cool enough to patch him up.” He eyed Gavin, who nodded before rushing over, reaching to take Michael by the hand. Michael swatted him away, insisting he could walk _just fine_ on his own, but after a few steps it became clear that he really _couldn’t,_ so he accepted the offer of an arm tight around his middle, and Gavin’s supportive frame to lead him into the nearest room.

“I’m going to bed.” Geoff glared at Ryan, still wet and shivering as he sipped from a glass of whiskey he’d pulled seemingly out of thin air. “We’ll have a heist evaluation tomorrow, ten AM sharp. Figure out what exactly it was that made this such a disaster.”

“Goodnight Geoff.” Ryan grinned teasingly, before settling his gaze on Ray. “Come on.” He slipped his knife back into his pocket. “I’ll drive you home.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You can come in if you want.”

Ray had been watching the way Ryan eyed his building as they sat outside it, engine still running. The drive over had been silent, asides from a text pinging on Ray’s phone from Michael, saying he was staying in the penthouse on _Nurse_ _Gavin’s_ executive orders.

“Sure.” Ryan said.

They walked side by side (close, but not touching) up the steps and towards the door. Lingering in the doorway opposite, Ray spotted Mrs Brown and waved at her with a smile, which she was happy to return.

“Just wanted to be sure you boys got home safe.” She said. “I know you had a big night tonight.”

“Thanks Mrs B. This is Ryan-”

“We’ve met.” She nodded. “Have a good night boys.”

Ryan was all smiles as he strolled into the apartment, and Ray rolled his eyes. Of course, Ryan was friendly with the fucking neighbours. He probably aided Mrs Brown in her surprisingly impressive spying techniques.

“Michael’s not coming home.” Ray said awkwardly. Ryan already knew this, obviously, but he was polite enough to nod as he leant back against the couch and rested his hands in his lap. “We could, I don’t know, play video games or whatever?”

“Aren’t you tired?” Ryan asked. “It’s been a long day.”

Ray shrugged, daring to walk closer so there was less than a metre between the both of them. “I don’t know.” He folded his arms over his chest and refused to meet Ryan’s eyes for more than a second a piece. “I don’t sleep much.”

Ryan smiled. “Me either.”

“Do you wanna… I dunno… talk? Like about what happened?”

“What happened?” Ryan asked, and if it wasn’t for the complete innocent cluelessness that laced his voice Ray would’ve been sure The Vagabond was completely fucking with him.  “ _Us_.” He laughed quietly. “We made out. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“Oh, yes.” Ryan said, the colour on his cheeks darkening. “I found it very enjoyable. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Ray paused for a second, a smile playing on his lips. Ryan was such a fucking _alien_ , in every sense of the word. It didn’t matter how human he claimed to be.

“Sure.” Ray said. “And for the record, I found it enjoyable too. So enjoyable that I’m offering the chance to do it again. You interested?” he raised his eyebrows. Ryan’s back straightened and he nodded quickly.

“Definitely.”

Things were relatively easy after that.

Ray wasn’t sure if it was because Ryan could read his thoughts when he made the effort to look, or because of how _well_ they simply worked together, but it was easily the best sex he’d ever had in his life. Ryan almost shifted into an alter-ego of his usual solemn and uptight personality, moulding into Ray like he was made to fit. He was dominating- but in a more innocent and unconscious way shown only when he pushed Ray back on the bed, or turned him over to lay on his front or back like he wanted. Neither of them said much at all during the exchange, except for when Ryan hit _that_ spot and Ray couldn’t do anything to stop himself from calling out his name without a single thought for their wall sharing neighbours.

Once they were done, Ryan collapsed beside him flat on his back. Ray was laid on his front with his head resting on his arms, and after a few blissful seconds he turned his face so he could look at Ryan, who thankfully, was looking equally as satisfied.

“So you’re definitely not a virgin then?” he joked. Ryan smiled.

“No. Not a virgin. Not that I do this very often. I don’t usually have the time.”

“Dude, compared to you I’m probably a whore. Banging is like, top three in my favourite hobbies. Right underneath video games and DDR.”

“DDR. That’s a sight I’d like to see.” Ryan replied, extending his arm so it rested over the pillow above Ray’s head. Taking that as a sign, Ray shifted over so he was tucked into Ryan’s side. The Vagabond moved his arm down and held him closely.

 _Cuddling_. That’s what they were doing. It was a long time since Ray had _cuddled_ with anyone.

“Would you ever just run away?” he asked quietly, after an hour or so of mutual comfortable silence. Every few minutes, he would grow nervous that Ryan had fallen asleep and sneak a glance up at him. Ryan was never asleep. The entire time, he was completely conscious, staring up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. “Leave the city?” he clarified, after receiving only the quirk of a questioning eyebrow in response. “Start over?”

“No.” Ryan answered. “That would be wrong. Geoff has saved me from the darkest place in my life. I could never leave him.”

Ray didn’t really have an answer to that, and he couldn’t help himself- he was tired. Staying up to watch Ryan wasn’t really an option anymore. Did The Vagabond even _need_ sleep? He wasn’t sure. There wasn’t a lot he was sure of at all, in that moment.

“Okay.” He decided to reply, before resting against Ryan’s chest and closing his eyes tightly.


	7. Sneaking Around and Home-Cooked Lasagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Ryan continue sneaking around together. Michael grows closer to Gavin. A decision is made about their future. Ryan opens up about his past and how he met Geoff Ramsey

 

CHAPTER SEVEN // SNEAKING AROUND AND HOME-COOKED LASAGNE

 

 

Three weeks passed, and ever so gradually, Ray noticed how much closer Michael was becoming to Gavin.

Every time they hung around the apartment, the two were completely inseparable. Michael still, of course, insisted that he hated Gavin’s guts and despised the ground he walked on, but Ray was starting to see less of the abrasive shouting and more the fond, amused smile, paired with the shake of his head and a mumbled _you_ _fucking_ _idiot_ every time Gavin did something dumb or funny.

Ray couldn’t complain. Sure, Gavin was a dangerous slightly-human entity of unknown power and capability- but the more time Michael spent with him, drinking and yelling at each other in the penthouse or out on missions, the more time Michael and Ray’s apartment stayed empty. Empty apartment meant time alone for he and Ryan that he could never accomplish at the penthouse. They’d fuck or fool around at the very least, and then still have plenty of time to just _be_ together in front of the TV, playing video games or watching something dumb on Netflix. Ray couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he and Ryan lied to Geoff, saying they were heading out on ‘heist research’ and instead slipped into Ryan’s car and sped off to their safe haven without further questioning. It almost made whatever the _thing_ was between them just that little bit more interesting, knowing they had to sneak around to do it.

However, a month or so into their new relationship, Ray realised that despite having plenty of room to bang without prying eyes, keeping their apartment around wasn’t at all economical. Besides, Ryan said he had dozens of safe houses and apartments scattered around the city they could run too if things got too close to call in the penthouse. Plus, his room was apparently enchanted to be soundproofed so Ray could do all the screaming he wanted, sexual or otherwise.

Moving in to the penthouse had been Geoff’s endgame the entire time, so with a lot of nerve, Ray brought it up to Michael on a rare night they spent together in the apartment. Michael had been spending almost every night at the penthouse, and Ray had stayed his fair share, pretending to sleep in the guest room until Ryan crept in to join them. However, he would still miss his and Michael’s place. The stupid building that had been their home for so long and if Ray was going to miss anything, it would probably be Mrs Brown, but then- she’d probably be far better off without the danger they brought to the door.

“Have you, uh, given any thought to the whole… moving-into-the-penthouse thing?” Ray asked, trying to be nonchalant. Michael shrugged flippantly.

“Yeah sure. I think it’s a great idea.”

Ray was thankful Michael’s eyes were fixed on the screen, and he didn’t notice the way his eyebrows skyrocketed to his forehead and his mouth fell open. “Really?” he coughed, trying to cover the surprise in his voice. “Cool. Me too. Geoff will probably be happy.”

“It’ll just be easier, for heisting and shit. Plus, that apartment is nice as fuck.”

“it’s great.” Ray nodded. “We should move in. Straight away- like, I’m thinking tomorrow.”

“Why the rush?” Michael half-laughed. He didn’t seem particularly suspicious, and the remark was casual as ever. However, Ray couldn’t help but stiffen nervously behind him. “You haven’t got a fucking ulterior motive I should be worried about, right?” he teased. Ray bit his lip.

“Uh, nope.” He lied. “No ulterior motive. Just like you said… convenience.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Their first night as official residents in the Fake AH Crew penthouse went about as smoothly as Ray could imagine it to be. Gavin had tried to show off- using telekinesis to lift their boxes and suitcases, and surprisingly he had made it all the way into Michael’s new room before they all tumbled down and things started to smash. He’d strung them back together ( _“Boi, calm down, yeah? I’ll just alter the composition of the atoms and-”)_ but Michael had already started yelling. Ray just listened to them with an amused smile and hung out in the living room with Geoff, Jack and Ryan.

So far, Geoff had been someone who was (to Ray at least) belligerent and unpredictable. Some mornings when he and Michael would show up, he’d be so grumpy he’d barely look at them. Other days, he’d be chugging Jack Daniels in front of the TV and laughing his ass off whilst the others looked on. Ray wasn’t expecting much when he set his sniper rifle case on one of the sleek wooden writing desks that stood behind the couch for Geoff to walk briskly over to him, and pull him into a warm, welcoming hug.

Geoff was so _strong_ \- Ray shouldn’t have really been surprised, knowing that his new boss was a creature of divine, unmeasurable power, but there was something in the slapdash presentation he made of himself that made you always forget his strength until it was too late. Ray supposed it had worked out for him well on the battlefield when the enemy undoubtedly underestimated him. Ray was lifted off his feet, and only set down when he returned the hug with a laugh.

“Glad you came, kid.” He smiled, ruffling Ray’s hair affectionately. “Hey, what’s your _favourite_ food? I wanna make you and Michael a special welcome family dinner.”

“Geoff is an excellent cook.” Ryan approached them with an equally pleased smile, resting his hands on Ray’s shoulders as he stood behind them. Ray tipped his head back and looked up at the Vagabond, grinning.

“Uh… lasagne.” He said after a few moments of thought. “Michael and I fucking love lasagne.”

Geoff insisted he needed space and time to cook their meal without the rest of them interfering, so Michael retreated to Gavin’s room to play video games, Jack hung around relatively close to the kitchen to keep one eye on Geoff and one on her laptop, where she was negotiating some kind of crew-related business. Then, devoid of everyone’s watchful eye, Ryan took Ray’s hand in his and lead him away to his room.

“Nobody ever comes in here apart from me.” he said quietly, flicking the light switch on. The walls were a pale grey, and spotlights in the ceiling reflected off the light wooden floors. Ryan’s bed sat completely in the middle, large and covered with dark sheets. On the surrounding walls stood a line of desks, each containing random pieces of machinery, computers, and tools. “It’s kind of a mess. I do a lot of tinkering, sorry.” He began pushing stuff strewn across the floor to the sides of the walls as he led Ray through, before sitting down on the bed. Ray smiled and sat beside him.

“I think it’s pretty cool.” He shrugged. “And my room’s only across the hall. Although no promises for how much time I spend in it- this bed is fucking soft.” He laughed, rubbing the bedsheets gently. Ryan smiled back.

“Here, I wanna show you something.” He said, leaning forwards and reaching under the bed. After a few minutes of rustling (based on what he saw around the room, Ray didn’t even want to wonder what Ryan had stuffed underneath his bedframe but he was picturing a _body_ ) he pulled out a dark brown leather briefcase. It looked old, and a thin sheet off dust had to be blown off the top before Ryan popped the brass clasp, making Ray cough.

“What is all this stuff?” he asked as the lid was lifted, and scattered pieces of paper and other random trinkets littered the inside. Ryan reached in, and turned over one small square of paper, revealing a photo of a small blonde child.

“These are all my memories. Old photos, and things like that. This is me and my first ever computer.”

Ryan grew more excited and animated as Ray’s interest furthered, being given access to such a privilege as Ryan’s past. He saw photo after photo of Ryan’s mother, his first house, his pet dog- along with other memories, like ticket stubs from the first showing of _Reservoir Dogs_ in his town, and a tiny snow globe that his father bought him when they went to _Lapland_ for Christmas.

It shocked Ray, for a few seconds, that Ryan had all his stuff. He only had visions of Ryan as _The Vagabond_ , a magical entity devoid of emotion and rationale. But- once again- Ryan was continuing to prove him wrong with all this evidence of an actual, human life. He was a _person_. A real-life _person_.

“Dude, you were hot!” Ray laughed at one photo of Ryan, taken when he was around eighteen. Ryan blushed.

“I did a little bit of modelling when I was younger. Only for a year or so.”

“No fucking _way_!” Ray all but squealed, pulling his phone out and snapping a picture of the old photo. “Dude, that’s going as my lockscreen for sure. Fuckin’ Ryan the _Male Model_ guy!”

“It was a long time ago.” Ryan took the photo back, but he laughed softly. “I was a teenager; my powers had just started to manifest and I had no idea how to control them or do much of anything. It was an easy distraction- I went to Milan, and everything!”

“Your powers manifested?” Ray asked. “Like… they just appeared one day?”

“Sort of.” Ryan shrugged. “I… always felt _different_ from other kids but I thought I was just a nerd. Once I reached eighteen I started to notice that I really was _different_ in a very different way.”

Ray leant back onto the mattress. Ryan closed the briefcase and slid it back underneath the bed before laying down beside him, hands clasped together over his chest.

“And then you met Geoff?” he asked. Ryan frowned and shook his head.

“God no.” he said. “I wish I had. Probably would’ve saved me from a whole lot of stupid shit I ended up getting myself into during that time in my life.”

“Hey, if anyone knows about stupid shit, it’s me.” Ray grinned. As if to prove a point, he lifted his arm above them both, and pulled the sleeve down. “Fell through a broken window after accidentally locking Michael in a greenhouse when we were twelve.” He pointed at the ugly, jagged scar that ran from his wrist and down a few inches, toward his elbow. “And here,” he turned his hand over, and showed Ryan the dark burn that ran across the back of it, “Salt and ice challenge. Went _very_ wrong.”

“Here’s mine.” Ryan sat up briefly to strip his jacket off. When he was down to just a t-shirt, he laid back on the bed and held his arm up next to Ray’s. He pointed at a series of small, circular marks around the top half of his forearm. Ray squinted. He’d seen Ryan naked plenty of times, but he’d never noticed them before.

“What’s that from?” he asked.

“Heroin.”

“Dude, what the fuck!” Ray craned his neck to look over at Ryan, who hadn’t even flinched. He glanced over at Ray, giving a soft smile. “Heroin?”

“Yup.” Ryan nodded, fairly casual about the whole thing. “I was a real addict for a few years. It was the only way I could cope with my powers. I didn’t understand them, they _itched_ and burned and made my body tingle. Using them in powerful bursts made the feeling go away for a bit- but I was turning into a maniac, and this character of _The Vagabond_ was born. I didn’t like that rep so much, so I turned to something else. Heroin made me feel better but before I knew it, I was addicted.”

“Dude, that’s some _Basketball Diaries_ shit.” Ray said quietly. Ryan laughed.

“I suppose so. Geoff found me and… he can sense others with power- so he followed his nose and there I was. He cleaned me up, gave me a roof, weaned me off the junk. It was hard but…” he trailed off, shrugging. “he saved my life. That’s why I owe it to him.”

“That’s why you can’t leave.” Ray finished off his thought, and Ryan nodded. “Aw, Rye.” He nuzzled closer, resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder. “Thanks for telling me. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” Ryan’s arm came up and wrapped around him, rubbing his back gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”


	8. Confessions and Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray works up the nerve to tell Michael the truth about himself and Ryan, but his best friend has a little something of his own to confess.

****

CHAPTER EIGHT // CONFESSIONS AND CONFLICT

 

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

“You’re going to tell him.”

Ray pointed harshly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “ _You’re_ going to tell him.” He said. “You’re just gonna walk up to Michael and be like, look, Ryan and I are together, deal with it. No big deal. No problem. Que fucking _Serra_. You’re gonna do it, you son of a bitch.”

Saying over and over to himself that he was _confident_ did do enough to get his feet moving in the direction of Michael’s bedroom, but it wasn’t nearly enough to actually _mimic_ the feeling of confidence. Still, he’d come this far. It was already too late to turn back once he’d knocked on the door and Michael had answered, shirtless and damp, fresh from his shower.

“Oh, hey Ray.” He moved aside from the door to let his friend in. “What’s up?” It was as casual as ever, no big deal (despite the pounding of Ray’s heart against his ribcage). Michael didn’t notice, flopping down on the bed with a towel draped over his shoulders from where he’d been rubbing his hair dry. Aside from the towel, all he wore was a pair of old basketball shorts, like he always had, back in the apartment.

“I just wanted to tell you-” he started, but quickly lost his train of thought when something else caught his eye. A few something-else’s, actually. He hadn’t noticed until Michael lifted the towel back up and began drying his curls, but across his neck and torso was a series of small red marks. Gradually, as Ray’s eyes followed and connected the dots of constellations over Michael’s torso did he realise that they lead down his chest and stomach, toward his-

“ _Dude!”_ Ray jumped backwards. “Are those fucking _hickies_?”

Michael looked down at his chest, where Ray was pointing and frowned. “ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed. “I’m gonna _kill_ Gavin.”

“Gavin?!” Ray exclaimed. “What the _fuck_?”

“Yeah.” Michael nodded, casual as ever as he touched one of the particularly prominent bruises and winced. “I fucked him. Last week. Thought you should probably know.”

Ray’s mouth fell open. It wasn’t the idea of Michael fucking Gavin that was so shocking- he’d been fairly certain that it was coming as the days progressed- no, it was the fact that Michael was being so _flippant_ about it. He didn’t even move to put a shirt on and hide the dirty evidence, like Ray had been doing, hoodie strings pulled tight against his throat. After brief inspection of his ruined torso, he relaxed again against the headboard, and continued drying his hair. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I thought you _hated_ Gavin?”

Michael shrugged. “I kinda do but… I don’t know. Gavin’s cool sometimes, it’s not a big thing. Now what the fuck did you come here to ask me, or whatever? Sounded pretty serious thirty seconds ago.”

“Oh.” _Oops_. Ray thought to himself. _Fucking forgot about Ryan_. He felt less nervous following Michael’s easy-going confession. Clearly he wasn’t opposed by human-magical being relations, which was a somewhat comforting. “Right. I wanted to tell you that… uh, Ryan and I… we’re sort of, about a month ago, like… he and I… we- uh… we’re like… _together_? We love each other. So… yeah. We’re together now. Have been for a while- I thought you should know.”

Michael froze. The towel dropped from his hands.

“ _What_?!”

Ray was more shocked by Michael’s enraged outburst than he had been by the whole _I-fucked-Gavin_ confession. Michael was standing, pacing the room as he yelled and Ray yelled back and the two continued to yell, back and forth until Ray’s throat was hoarse and Michael’s torso had flushed completely red, successfully camouflaging the love-bites Gavin had left him.

“You’re an _asshole,_ Ray, you know that?” he fumed. “I told you about me and Gavin within a week- but you didn’t think to mention that you’ve been banging Ryan for more than a _month_?”

“Why is it a _problem_ that I’m fucking Ryan?” Ray demanded. Michael’s hands shook.

“My problem isn’t that you’re fucking him, dipshit. It that you wanted to be so fucking _secretive_ about it, you didn’t even think to _tell_ me! You fucking _lied_ to my face!”

“It wasn’t like that.” Ray grumbled, arms folded over his chest. Michael shook his head.

“You know what, you’ve fucking changed.” He spat, storming over to the door. “I don’t know if it’s Ryan or Geoff or the money or anything, but you’re not the same person I knew three months ago. Call me if that Ray decides to show up for a visit.”

With that, Michael stomped out of his own bedroom and left Ray alone inside. He reached over to the bed and grabbed the nearest pillow, before forcing his face into it and letting out a hollering scream. Then, after a minute or so, Jack walked into the room.

“Why did Michael storm through the apartment shirtless, grab a hoodie and leave in a fit of rage?” she asked with a disapproving sigh. Ray crossed his arms tightly.

“I told Michael that me and Ryan are in a relationship, which we are- by the way.” He admitted. there was no use lying to Jack. She had ways of sensing the truth and making people give it to her that Ray probably wasn’t even old enough to _see_. “Michael clearly wasn’t happy about being left out of the loop.”

“Well, we all knew that you and Ryan were together.” She said, smirking as she leant back against the door. Ray stared up at her and sighed.

“Really?”

“Really.” She nodded. “But Michael… he was insistent that it wasn’t true because if it was you would’ve told him already.”

“ _Fuck_.” Ray sighed, rubbing his head in his hands. “I’m a fucking terrible friend, aren’t I?”

“Only a little.” Jack shrugged. “If I were you, I’d run after him before he gets into trouble.”

 

000000000000000000000000000

 

Following Jack’s advice, Ray followed twenty or so minutes later, stuffing his feet into his vans and grabbing his purple hoodie. He was heading out the door as Gavin and Geoff returned from their trip out, Ray quickly explaining the situation along with the fact that he _really_ had to go, before Michael hated him forever. Geoff had a proud smile on his face, and the love radiated all the way down to the bottom of the building.

Ray sprinted once his sneakers hit the sidewalk, and followed his intuition to where he hoped Michael would be running. His feet took him in the direction of their old apartment, where Michael had probably stormed off to be angry and throw things until he felt better and retreated home again with his tail between his legs.

He wasn’t sure when it was exactly that he had started thinking of the penthouse as home, but it had all been sudden and overwhelming. He didn’t give their old apartment a second thought when he knew he could be returning to Ryan’s memory foam mattress, Geoff’s home cooked meals, Gavin’s endless hypothetical ramblings and Jack’s quality advice. The penthouse itself didn’t really make the difference- it was more so the people that were in it.

Ray hadn’t caught sight of Michael and was beginning to doubt his intuition as he started through the alleyway that took them through to where their building was. He was halfway down the narrow path, tempted several times already to turn back and search elsewhere when he heard a faint groaning.

“Michael?” he whispered.

“Ray!” followed a pained shout. Ray ran, following the sound round the sharp turn of the alley and skidded to a stop when he saw Michael, slumped on the wet concrete, clutching his abdomen. The hoodie he wore was light grey, but was stained dark with blood around his belly. His face was screwed up in pain, sweat dampened his hair and made it stick to his forehead.

“Michael! Fuck!” Ray squatted down, rushing to his friend. “What happened- _shit_!”

“Gun.” Michael wheezed, eyes drooping. “He-he shot me.”

“Shit, Michael!” Ray was panicked, frantic as he stripped his own hoodie off and pressed it to the bleeding wound. “Fuck, just, don’t go to sleep. I’m gonna call for Ryan, please- just hang on!”

 _Ryan please ,_ Ray pleaded silently, eyes squeezed shut tightly as Michael’s pained breaths caused an ache in his chest. _Please, wherever you are, I need you. Michael’s hurt. Please, God- Ryan, where the fuck are you? I need you, you asshole!_

He was about to give up, when he heard feet land softly behind him. Ray turned, and his eyes widened when he spotted Gavin, smirking with his eyes shut.

“Michael love, you called. Still haven’t had eno-” he froze when he opened his eyes, smirk dropping into a frightened frown. Immediately, he fell to his knees and rushed towards Michael. “Shit, what happened?”

“He got shot! Help him!”

“Fuck, alright!” Gavin leant forwards, taking Michael’s hand between his. “Michael, stay with me, boi- please.”

“Gavin?” Michael slurred, eyes drooping further as his consciousness faded.

“Just go to sleep boi. Listen to my voice, go to sleep.” Gavin closed his own eyes, screwing them up tightly, and a burst of golden energy fizzled between them both. Once Michael hung his head, asleep, he sat up slightly. “Energy transfer.” He explained quickly to Ray as he pulled Michael to his feet. “I’ve temporarily put his body to sleep so it doesn’t panic and fuck itself up. We need to get him home but… I put a lot of power into that. This is gonna be bumpy so- hold on.”

“Hold on?!” Ray asked. “To what?!”

But it was too late. Ray felt his feet dangle in thin air, a sharp pull twist his gut and then, he landed on the hard wooden flooring of the penthouse, staring up into Geoff’s panicked eyes before he fell unconscious.

 

000000000000000

 

He awoke a few seconds later, laid in the armchair. When he opened his eyes they fell immediately on Michael, slumped on the sofa as both Gavin and Geoff worked their hands around him, feeding energy into his wound. Thankfully, Ray could see the rise and fall of his chest still going strong as his head fell backwards.

“I feel sick.” He mumbled, suddenly aware of Jack’s hand in his hair, stroking gently.

“That’s the, uh, method of transport you took here.” She explained. “Teleporting. Makes you real sick if you’re not used to it.”

“Michael-” he tried to sit up, but felt woozy and instead fell backwards. Jack’s gentle stroke increased, relaxing him. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” She said. “Look, Gavin’s getting him up now.” She pointed over, where Michael had begun to stir, grimacing in pain and Gavin hauled him to his feet and took him away in the direction of the bedrooms. Geoff smiled as he watched them go, and Ray felt his stomach settle.

“C’mon boi.” Gavin was mumbling as he rubbed Michael’s back tenderly. “Nurse Gavin’s here.”

Geoff was squinting as he watched them retreat, and slowly, his fist clenched. Jack removed her hands from Ray’s hair and stood up straight, walking over to Geoff hesitantly.

“Did you see?” she asked. Ray frowned, not understanding what they meant. Geoff seemed to understand, and gritted his teeth noticeably, nodding.

“Gang higher-up. Bald fucker, ugly scar on his face. Here.” He gestured to his chin.

“Do I need to get the shotgun?”

Geoff smiled. “Jack, buddy, you’re gonna need more than fucking that.”

As they moved to leave, Ryan still nowhere to be seen, Ray found the strength to raise to his feet and attempt to walk towards them.

“You stay here.” Geoff stopped him before he even had the chance to speak. “Keep an eye on Michael and Gavin. Ryan will be home soon.”

Without the energy to argue, Ray flopped back into the sofa and closed his eyes. Perhaps, after a nap, things would be better. He had all the faith in the world that Gavin would keep Michael safe and alive. Other than that, his only concern was Ryan, and where the fuck he had been.

 

0000000000000000000000000

 

“I’ve put him to bed now.” Gavin smiled as he crept into the main room, where Ray was still curled in the armchair. He squinted as he peeled his eyes open, looking around the dark penthouse, disorientated.

“Huh?” he mumbled. “Where is everyone?”

“Geoff and Jack are still out.” Gavin said. “Ryan…” he paused, squinting slightly as he tilted his head, angling his ear towards the door. “He’s coming up the lift right now.”

“That’s creepy dude.” Ray sat up, stretching his arms above his head. “But I gotta talk to him about today so… you know, vamoose.” He waved his hands, and Gavin laughed quietly. “Go take care of that Jersey dickhead.”

“G’night Ray love.” He yawned. It occurred to Ray then that he’d never seen Gavin be sleepy before. “I’ll make sure Michael doesn’t… die in his sleep or anything.”

As Gavin wandered out into the corridor, the elevator doors slid open and Ryan walked into the penthouse. He dragged his Vagabond mask off and tossed it onto the kitchen counter before shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on the coat-rack.

“Hello, Ray.” He approached the armchair and placed his hands onto Ray’s shoulders. Ray shrugged, and Ryan’s fingers slipped away. He took a step back, noticing how Ray had suddenly stiffened. “You’re upset.” He observed. “Why?”

“Where were you?” Ray asked quietly, managing to contain his anger.

“Working.” He replied, simply.

“I called.”

The room was uncomfortably silent. As Ryan took another step away, and straightened himself, his almost-silent footsteps echoed in the room.

“I heard you.” Ryan said, and Ray felt his entire body stiffen. He gritted his teeth. “I couldn’t come though. I was…” he trailed off, looking away. “ _busy_.”

“Fuck you.” The hitch in Ray’s voice caught him by surprise. Wet tears clung to his eyelashes as he relived images of Michael, bleeding out in the alley. Fuck, if Michael hadn’t called for Gavin the way he did- he’d be dead. Ray had spent all his time relying on the wrong fucking magical asshole.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, tilting his head sideways. Ray could bring himself to find it as endearing as he usually did. Slowly, he stood up, hands buried deeply in the pockets of his hoodie.

“I called you.” He said quietly. “I _needed_ you, Rye. Michael, he was-” his words caught awkwardly in his throat, and Ray found himself having to pause, swallow and hold back the tears again. “Michael almost _died_ and you couldn’t come because you were _busy_?”

“With all due respect,” Ryan said flatly, face and voice void of all emotion. “That isn’t my problem. You are my concern, Ray. Not Michael.”

Ray smiled, despite himself. His cheeks were wet and he clenched his fists tightly.

“Ray?” Ryan tilted his head in question. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t even bother.” Ray stormed off, pushing past Ryan after that and headed down the corridor. Instead of taking the last left, like he usually would to get into Ryan’s room, he walked straight through the second door on the right.

It was his room. It only occurred to Ray the second he closed the door behind him that he hadn’t spent a single night alone inside of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I mean it when I say I do all of this for you guys- everyone who reads / likes / comments on/ recs my fics. I've written a lot for this fandom, and your response always means the world, even if there aren't as many of you out there as there used to be.


	9. Jewellery Heists and Signed Contracts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray goes out on a mini-heist with Jack and Geoff. Later in the evening, Geoff has a proposition he can't really refuse.

 

 

CHAPTER NINE // JEWELLERY HEISTS AND SIGNED CONTRACTS

 

After a restless sleep, Ray dragged himself from bed as morning broke and padded into the kitchen, stern faced and sleepy. He was surprised to see both Geoff and Jack, awake and somewhat chipper, sat around the breakfast table. Geoff was munching from a bowl of cereal that hovered in the air, and Jack was nibbling at a slice of bacon.

She looked over and smiled when she spotted Ray. “Morning sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Shit.” Ray grumbled, making his way over to the table. He hopped up on a stool, and Jack set a fresh plate of bacon and scrambled eggs, cooked just the way he liked it, in front of him. Where she’d even produced the food from, he was unsure, but Ray was already at the point in his life where he stopped questioning things that didn’t make sense. People like Jack and Geoff and Ryan and Gavin seemed to be able to bend reality at their own will most of the time, and trying to figure it out only made his head hurt. “Where’s that asshole Vagabond?” he asked through a mouthful of egg.

Jack and Geoff shared a look. Geoff sipped his coffee.

“Uh. Ryan’s taking the day off.” Jack said. Ray frowned.

“Where?”

Geoff laughed at that, spluttering through another sip of his coffee. Ray didn’t see the joke, and when it became clear that he wasn’t laughing, Geoff forced himself to be straight.

“It’s confidential.” He said. “Ryan’s a secretive fucker when he wants to be but, yeah, he’s taking a day. Besides, we’ve got work to do without him. So don’t sweat it. He’ll be back.”

Ray huffed. On one hand, not seeing Ryan all day would probably help dissipate the lingering anger he felt towards him. On the other hand, he hadn’t had contact with the guy he’d been spending every waking moment with in over twelve hours, and was starting to get antsy.

“Cool.” He tried to remain nonchalant, but doubted he fooled Geoff or even Jack for a second. “What’s the work?”

“Jewellery snatch.” Geoff scraped the rest of his cereal up with his spoon. “Uptown.”

“Jewellery huh?” Ray hummed. Jack rolled her eyes.

“It’s not exactly an operation for monetary gain. Geoff’s just got a grudge against the owner and wants to teach him a lesson.” She explained, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Count me in.” a strained sounding voice pitched in from behind them, and the three turned to see a limping, sluggish Michael, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with his curls hidden by a grey beanie, grimacing as he hobbled into the room. Gavin wasn’t far behind, completely shirtless, in just a pair of long grey basketball shorts.

“No, no the fuck you aren’t boi!” he said, despite Michael’s groans of protest as he all but dragged himself over to the breakfast table.

“I can do it-”

“-No, you cant.” Geoff interrupted. “Absolutely not. Me, Jack and Ray have got this one. You stay here and fucking heal up. I know we’re magical, but we don’t work miracles kid. What you need is to rest.” Michael huffed, folding his arms over his chest and looking just about ready to protest, but he knew better than to argue with Geoff and instead kept silent. Then, the boss turned to Gavin. “You can stay here and look after him.”

“Will do.” Gavin laid a hand on Michael’s shoulders, and slowly, began steering him back in the direction of his bedroom.

“Oh, and another thing!” Geoff called after them. “Change the sheets if you plan on fucking in my bed again! Yeah, I noticed that, by the way. I really fucking _noticed_.”

Neither Gavin nor Michael decided to grace that with a reply, but faintly, Ray heard snickering from down the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The job was simple enough. Jack and Geoff (after spending forty-five minutes arguing in the mask store like a married couple with Ray, guest starring as their disgruntled teenage son) burst into the store with ducky-masks hiding their identities, guns blazing, get-away car still running. Ray was perched above a building opposite with his rifle, there to provide covering fire on the off chance that any cops got a touch too close. The jewellery store was way uptown and the LSPD response time was absolute garbage in general, so it wasn’t exactly a pressing task for him. It didn’t take long before Geoff and Jack had made it out with the goods unscathed, and set off to lose the cops.

That gave Ray some time to think, as he slowly packed up his rifle and looked over the landscape of Los Santos. He hated to admit it, but he was missing Ryan painfully. He felt bad for the way they had left things the night previous, and although he still stood by his decision that Ryan was most certainly in the wrong, he could admit that he may have handled the situation a little poorly. After all, he kept forgetting, Ryan wasn’t like him at all. Not by a long shot.

“You’ve got that right.”

Ray flinched, turning with his handgun held tightly on instinct to come face to face with The Vagabond himself, dressed in his standard “civilian” disguise (which was jeans, and a somewhat eerie kitten shirt).

“Jesus dude. Don’t scare me like that.” Ray lowered his gun, and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Ryan’s hands were tucked into his front pockets. His head was bowed sheepishly. Ray hated to admit that it was cute, and was absolutely working wonders on his capability to forgive him. Still, he did his best to hold his ground, and folded his arms defensively over his chest.

“Why? Thought you didn’t do anything wrong, or whatever. Cause, you know, Michael isn’t your fucking priority.” He then tilted his head up, defiant. Ryan reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That was wrong of me to say.” He admitted, and Ray’ expression relaxed slightly. “I see that now. Michael… he is someone very important to you. He’s someone you love very much and it hurts you when he’s in pain. Kinda like how I feel about you, and because of that, I never want to see you hurt or scared or upset and if that means looking after Michael too, I’ll do it.” He looked up at that, and Ray sniffed, doing his best to regain composure. It was hard. Ryan was sickeningly adorable when he apologised, apparently.

“Next time you call,” Ryan finished. “No matter what for, I’ll be there.”

Ray nodded, and was quiet for a few minutes, taking in the entirety of Ryan’s confession. He could sense The Vagabonds anxiety as he paced foot to food before him, and fine, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it just a little.

“Okay.” He eventually said. Ryan raised an eyebrow, expectantly.

“Okay?”

Ray nodded again. “Okay.” He repeated, and then, he smiled broadly. “Glad we made up. I missed you.”

Ryan still looked baffled, but Ray didn’t let it faze him, rushing forwards to pull Ryan into a tight hug which was greatly reciprocated.

“It’s fixed?” Ryan asked, still bemused. “Just like that? Everything’s okay?”

“Yup.” Ray nodded into Ryan’s shoulder. “All you had to do was say sorry. I’m not an asshole. Of course I forgive you. I shouldn’t have gone off at you like I did, but it’s over now. Michael’s okay. He’s with Gav.”

“Oh… okay.” Ryan nodded, as Ray stepped back, turning around to pick up his sniper case. “Right, well,” pink had flushed his cheeks, and Ray couldn’t stop himself from grinning at how cute it was too see. “I still have some errands to run around the city but… uh… I’ll be home for dinner, so, see you later?”

“Cool.” Ray moved to walk past him, stopping briefly to plant a soft kiss in the corner of Ryan’s mouth. “See you later then.”

“Hey, Ray?” Ryan called after him, as he made his way off the roof and down onto the pavement below. Ray paused in the alley between the two buildings, and looked up at Ryan, stood above him.

“What’s up?”

Ryan swallowed thickly. “I love you.” He said.

Ray’s eyes widened. It was his turn to blush.

“Uh, cool.” He spluttered. “I-I love you too Rye. See you.”

After that revelation, Ray pulled his purple hoodie up over his head and made his way out of the alley, back onto the main road. however, he couldn’t resist for long, and dared to send another look up at the roof of the building.

Ryan, of course, was long gone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Ray stepped foot back into the penthouse, he was expecting the usual low level chaos to greet him. Geoff and Jack would be bickering about something or the other as they went through the diamonds they’d secured in the smash-and-grab, Michael would probably have migrated from bed to the living room couch despite Gavin’s disapproval, and the Brit in question would be doting over him, making sure he was still well and breathing.

Instead, Ray was met with darkness. Instantly suspicious, he pulled his pistol out as he stepped into the dark and empty living room.

“Hello?” he called out, every footstep he took echoing around him. “Michael? Gavin?”

“This way.” Ray turned, recognising Geoff’s voice come from down the hall that led to all the rooms in the penthouse he’d been told to keep out of. It was concealed behind a red curtain, and every time he or Michael had grown curious and sniffed around it, they’d been swatted away like misbehaving toddlers. Geoff’s voice relaxed him slightly, but Ray didn’t let go of his gun.

“Dude, quit being so fuckign mysterious.” He mumbled to himself, and heard a snicker in response. He walked down the corridor, which too was incredibly dark, and Ray found himself squinting through his glasses in order to follow Geoff’s shadowy figure as they went further and further down the corridor. Ray wondered silently just how big the penthouse was- because every time he thought he had a vague estimation, someone would surprise him with a secret room or Olympic swimming pool or bowling alley. He assumed some kind of magical… _whatever_ was wrapped around the place, because there was no way so much square footage could fit into a Los Santos high-rise.

“Here we are.” Geoff announced, followed by the flick of a light-switch. The room they had stepped into was suddenly bathed in light, and Ray frowned. It felt like he’d been hurled back in time, perhaps even as far back as to the 1800s with the dark wooden panels that covered the tall walls, the archaic-looking plush velour chairs and elegant looking framed paintings. There was even a fireplace, built into the wall, surrounded by the same rich oak that constructed the large desk that Geoff sat behind.

“Yo, this is some Django Unchained shit.”

Geoff giggled. “Thank you. Take a seat.”

He nodded to the chairs that were positioned in front of the desk as he took his own seat in a large, but not overly assuming wooden throne. Then, as Ray sat down with intense suspicion in his eyes, Geoff leant down to rifle through the draws of a cabinet, before pulling out a large stack of yellowing paper. When he dropped it onto the table, it made a small thud, and dust flew out, making Ray cough.

“Sorry,” Geoff coughed too, waving his hand to clear the air. “as you can see, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do one of these.”

“One of these?” Ray questioned, staring at the paper. The words were written in a language he couldn’t even recognise, let alone understand. “What’s this about Geoff?”

“It’s a contract.” Geoff leant forwards, licking the pad of this thumb before lifting a few sheets of paper, squinting as he read. “Standard really. I just need you to sign it.”

Ray leant back against the back of the chair. “Contract?” he asked. “What kind of contract?”

A few seconds of silence passed between them. Eventually, Geoff let out a long sigh, and reclined in his own seat. “Look, Ray. Ryan is _in love_ with you. Can you see how maybe, for me, that could be very dangerous?”

“No.” Ray frowned, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “How?”

“It makes both of you a liability.” Geoff’s tone was serious. “I mean, I would much prefer it if the people in my crew had no personal feelings or relation to each other but in all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve come to learn that that’s just impossible.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “Humans are… well, human. People are people- even magical ones. And those people often can’t keep it in their _damn_ pants, you and Ryan included.”

For a second, Ray wanted to ask just how old Geoff was and for how many years he had been in this business. It seemed, from the tired look in his excited eyes and the fading ink of the tattoos on his skin, to be a long while. Ray wasn’t sure, after a few seconds, if he really wanted to know just how old Geoff was. The thought would be too mind-warping.

“Am I going to be fired?” he asked instead. Geoff gave him that soft, _dad_ smile and shook his head.

“No, that would be a little extreme. You can be with Ryan- be my guest, maybe some action will stop him being so fucking uptight about everything- but it just means that the two of you will be bound by this special contract.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a silver pen that glittered between his fingers. When he licked the tip, the whole thing appeared to light up, bathing his face in blue. “If one of you hinders a mission, or uses any kind of foul play, risking the safety of the rest of the group in order to protect the other than you will be removed immediately.” He reached over, handing the pen over to Ray, who reached to take it. However, the second his finger touched the shockingly cold pen, Geoff pulled it back. “-and don’t think if you do, that I won’t find out. This contract’s got some interesting power to it. So don’t even bother trying to lie. Because the moment you do and the contract is broken-” he leant forwards, and the intensity conveyed by both the blue of his eyes and the frown on his lips wrapped itself around Ray like a powerful snake and squeezed him. “-I’ll know.”

“Uh… okay.” He took the pen this time, when Geoff offered it, and watched as the pages were flicked back in order to reveal a space for signature. It made him a little nervous, signing something he couldn’t actually read, but there was a trust Ray held in Geoff that couldn’t be matched by any type of legal figure. He pressed the pen against the paper and felt it hum beneath his fingers. When he signed his name, the ink was blood red. Then, with a click of Geoff’s fingers, it burned into the page with tiny flames and turned black.

“Huh.” Ray watched as Geoff blew the smoke away, spinning the contract back to himself so he could admire Ray’s scrawny penmanship. “Cool. But uh, what about Ryan? Doesn’t he have to sign too?”

Geoff looked up from the papers, and a genuine smile, void of all its usual sarcastic flair and teasing, blossomed across his face.

“Ray,” he said. “Ryan signed the contract three weeks ago.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is the last chapter! Hope you've all enjoyed this story ;)


	10. Making Up & Making Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Michael make up. Ray truly realises what a home is.

 

 

Chapter Ten // Making Up & Making Home

 

 

Walking the corridor down to Michael’s room felt, for a second, like walking the plank to his own death.

Despite the brief reconciliation they’d made in Ray’s pure relief that his best friend was still alive, Ray still felt that there was still plenty of murky garbage hiding in the waters below the bridge they’d built. More than anything, he wanted things with Michael to be right again. At the end of the day, when this whole, beautiful mess of a crew fell apart and left them in the dust as they likely would- Ray would always have Michael, and they’d always be together.

He held his breath when knocking, and Gavin opened the door, clearly a little surprised to see him. Thankfully, he was dressed and so was Michael (to an extent, shirtless but wearing sweatpants) as he sat up in bed, playing Xbox. Gavin stepped back so that Ray could step into the room, and remained their awkwardly as the other two locked eyes.

“Hey.” Michael nodded at him, pausing the game. Ray nodded back.

“Hey.”

Then they both turned and looked at Gavin, who looked spectacularly uncomfortable.

“I’ll just… I think I heard Geoff- yep, that’s Geoff, calling me. I’ll, uh, be back in a sec.” he stumbled over his words, and Ray couldn’t help but laugh as he all but fled the room. For someone who’d appeared so smooth when they met, Gavin was awkward as fuck at times.

Michael wasn’t laughing, but he was watching Gavin leave the room with the fattest, fondest smile Ray had ever seen on his face. He sat on the bed in the empty space that Gavin had left, and Michael turned to look at him, overgrown curls bouncing. His smile dipped slightly, but didn’t disappear. Ray hoped that was a good sign.

“I just… I hoped maybe we could, uh, talk?” Ray started, but Michael cut him off, holding the Xbox controller out, before dropping it into Ray’s lap.

“Dude, if we’re gonna do this mushy chick-flick shit, we’re gonna do it whilst playing Zombies. So I suggest you bring your A-Game unless you want me to _beat_ your _ass_.”

Ray had never met anyone better than him at video games in person, but Michael was certainly close. He didn’t have the same strive to perfect games and collect achievements that Ray did, but in terms of reaction time and natural skill, Michael had him more than matched. Ray was good at games because he liked to put in the effort to _learn_ them, making things as easy as possible. Michael was good at games because he _genuinely_ loved playing them.

“Oh, that’s cheating! Come on, what fucking hacks have you got going on here man?” Michael whinged as Ray’s character caught him between the eyes with a bullet from a hundred paces. Ray had moved so the two were side to side, backs against the headboards, shoulders bumping occasionally. He shrugged.

“Get fucking wrecked man. Stop making it so easy.”

“Whatever.” Michael huffed, rolling his eyes but laughing at the same time. “Is it fucking dumb to say that I’ve missed this? Me and you, just… I don’t know, dicking about and playing games?”

Ray looked down at the controller in his hands with a soft laugh. “I’ve missed it too. Playing with Ryan is fun but- I’ve missed me and you in that shithole apartment, playing Xbox until three AM and getting up at eight the next day to rob a convenience store just to make rent.”

They both laughed that time, together, and then fell into a mutual silence. After a few seconds, Michael lifted his head, and looked beside him to Ray with a small smile.

“I’m sorry for all that shit I said about you changing and shit. It wasn’t true- you’re still Ray. Still an asshole but… the same asshole.”

“I shouldn’t’ve lied.” Ray sighed. “I should’ve told you about Ryan straight up and maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess” he nodded down at Michael’s abdomen, where his thick white bandage wrapped around his middle was fully on show. Michael rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault dickhead. I ran out of the safest place in the city and decided to fucking walk alone through an alleyway at night. I’m lucky this was all that happened and that you fucking came after me. You saved my life.”

“Nah, I should’ve-”

“-I’m serious Ray.” Michael cut him off, setting the controlled aside on the bed. “You saved my life. I’ll always be grateful. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

Ray grinned. “Yeah, and you’re mine. No homo.”

“Can’t say that anymore.” Michael scoffed. “How is the whole Ryan thing? Gav mentioned that you were arguing- I hope I didn’t fuck it up for you.”

“Nah.” Ray shook his head. “We’re good- better than good, really. We’re great. Fucking… Geoff made me sign a contract because Ryan said he loved me.”

Michael’s nose creased as he frowned, and the freckles on his face danced. “A contract?”

“Yeah.” Ray rolled his eyes. “Like, to make sure we don’t endanger the crew to save each other and shit. It was dumb but… Geoff’s done this kind of thing a thousand times before, apparently. Says humans are always fucking it up by falling in love” He shrugged. Michael bit a laugh.

“That’s fucking dumb dude.”

“Yeah? Well, watch out.” Ray bumped his shoulder against Michael’s playfully. “You never know. You might have to sign one for Gavin soon.”

The nose crinkle somehow grew deeper, followed by Michael’s eyebrows furrowing so severely that they almost touched in the middle. “ _Please_.” He scoffed, just a little too harshly. “Gavin and I are just… friends who fuck. It isn’t… no, not like that.” He shook his head. Ray just rolled his eyes and bit back a fat smirk. Michael didn’t fool him for a second. They’d known each other for far too long to even bother trying to lie anymore.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at you when you were almost dead.” Ray said quietly. Michael stared into his lap, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever.” He lifted his head, and rested it against the cool wall. Then, he turned to face Ray again. “COD: Ghost next?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They played together for a few hours, until a sheepish Gavin came crawling back in, mumbling about how Geoff had told him if he didn’t fuck off the bed and _stop bothering them_ he’d find himself strung up like a flag on the roof of the penthouse. Ray took that as his cue to _not_ be a third wheel, and left the room just in time to see Gavin slip in bed beside Michael, Michael raise his arm over Gavin to hold him close, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

 _Yeah right,_ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes as his tired feet dragged him to Ryan’s room. _Just friends my fucking ass_.

It had been too many hours since he’d seen Ryan last, and Ray couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed at the way his heart winced slightly when he saw the room was empty. However, Ryan had promised he’d be home that night- and although dinner was long off the table- Ray trusted that he’d make it there soon.

It was almost midnight, Ray’s eyes closed and his mind almost drifted off when he heard footsteps enter the room. Criminal instincts had him reaching for the gun on the nightstand, but within seconds, he recognised the heavy boots, the zipping of the leather jacket and the crumbled rubbing sound of the skull mask being pulled over head and tossed onto the floor. Ryan undressed and sat on the bed just in time to see Ray’s eyes open, and the two shared a look in the dark.

“Did I wake you?” Ryan whispered. Ray burrowed closer to the pillow, turning so he was laid more on his front and shook his head. He stretched for a few seconds before forcing himself to sit up, curly hair sticking up at all angles, eyes heavy. Ryan reached forward to smooth his curls before pulling his head forwards to kiss him sweetly on his brow.

“I signed the contract.” Ray whispered. Ryan sighed.

“I’m sorry to put you in such a position. I know it feels a little… claustrophobic to have our relationship bound by a clause-”

“-I really don’t mind.” Ray cut him off before any more doubting thoughts could pour from Ryan’s mouth. “I love you, Rye. The contracts just a formality. You’re worth it, now, I’m fucking exhausted. Lay down with me.”

Even in the dark, Ray could see Ryan’s smile spreading.

“Of course. And I love you too.”

Ray nodded. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Ryan’s voice was firm, eyes wide and unblinking. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

Ray leant forwards to pull Ryan into a hug, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders. “I know.” He whispered again. “Me either.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a strange notion, a home being something as simple as hot bacon on a breakfast table, Gavin’s shrieking and Michael’s yelling like music to his ears. Geoff’s sleepy attempt at pretending to be stern with him as he waved his hands around and pulled their food out of reach until they apologised. Jack’s motherly scolding as she easily overruled Geoff’s immense power and set the plates back onto the table.

It was chaotic, magnetic, electric. Ray loved every morning spent in the penthouse but his home wasn’t just the building. Home was this- _them_ \- the _Fake AH_ crew, sitting around a breakfast table together despite the fact that it was one in the afternoon and Geoff was already sipping whiskey. Ryan’s hand on the small of his back- that was _home_ and _love_ and tenderness; the same kind could be seen in Michael’s eyes as he laughed harshly, gazing at Gavin like he was the most idiotic little slice of divinity in the whole universe.

It was a home, in the way he and Michael in an apartment on the lower east side had always been a home. It was home in the way that a dingy two-bedroom house in queens with uncaring parents never had become. Ryan reached around to his front, and took Ray’s hand under the table in his and Ray knew, instantly, that he’d made the right decision by dragging Michael into this whole mess and in theory, signing his life away to a foreign being with cold fire in his eyes.

Together, they’d made their own home. Ray wasn’t looking to leave it anytime soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnddddd tha'ts a wrap! Hope you enjoyed this fic. 
> 
> If you liked this, and want more, there's plenty more raywood and mavin and other ships on my AO3 page. My most recent, Keep a Place for Me, updates every thursday. Comments and Kudos and everything are wonderful. Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND COMMENT ARE ALWAYS LOVED AND APPRECIATED <3 ! UPDATES EVERY THURSDAY!


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